


A Thousand Years and More

by chissprincess



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, First Love, First Time, M/M, Slash, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 137,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chissprincess/pseuds/chissprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time when Thranduil had no shadows in his heart, and didn’t hide behind a cold mask. There was a time when Elrond wasn’t the Lord of Imladris, and didn’t have as much on his shoulders.</p>
<p>And there was a time when they loved each other in a romance that spanned the Ages.</p>
<p>(Mostly movie-verse with a good bit of book-verse canon/inspiration. Due to a very non-canon relationship and some messing with the canon timeline, I’m calling this alternate universe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all associated characters, settings, etc. belong to Tolkien. I merely borrow them for fun sometimes.
> 
> Notes: A little while ago I wrote a one-shot fic called “First and Second Chances” and thought that it would be enough to appease the Thranduil/Elrond plot that popped into my head. But then the plot went, “Aww, that was cute! Now write all the rest of the story!” So this fic grew out of that. This story spans thousands of years of Middle-Earth history and begins well before the events of “The Hobbit.”

     Elrond and Elros watched the adults file into the room where the council was to be held, ogling the many Elves present until the guards finally shut the doors and gave the two elflings a pointed look. Elros wilted a little – he had wanted to keep watching – but Elrond shrugged and turned away. “Come on,” he said. “There’s a garden, let’s go play.”

     “Think we can climb one of the trees?” Elros asked, eagerly skipping along at his brother’s side.

     “Yeah, maybe!” Elrond replied, his face, normally so serious even now in childhood, breaking into an eager grin. “Let’s hurry!”

     The twins dashed off, racing each other to the garden. They were quite evenly matched when it came to running like this, and they would have both made it to the biggest tree in the garden at the same time if Elrond hadn’t been distracted by the garden’s other inhabitant. He and Elros flew past a single bench, sitting tucked back under a smaller tree and surrounded at the back and sides by bushes, but they weren’t so fast that Elrond missed the blonde elfling sitting on the bench. He slowed and stopped, then turned to get a better look, all the while ignoring Elros’s irritated shouts.

     The elfling on the bench was small and slight, with blond hair that just brushed his shoulders and partly shielded his face as he leaned over the book in his lap. He was just short enough that his feet didn’t quite touch the ground as he sat on the bench, and his legs were crossed primly at the ankles. Elrond noted that they both wore similar clothes – a tunic that hung to just above the knees, a belt around the waist, soft hooded cloaks, tight leggings, and knee-high boots of fine leather – but where his own clothes were mostly brown and green, the blond elfling’s clothes were all in shades of blue, and his belt was decorated with silver. Clearly, whoever he was, he came from a well-off family. Why, he probably had relatives in the council right now.

     “What are you reading?” Elrond asked, going over to stand beside the other elfling and continuing to ignore Elros, who was now stomping back up the path towards him.

     The blond child’s eyes flicked up to look at Elrond, revealing that their color was quite similar to that of his tunic. “A book,” he replied, in a tone of voice that indicated Elrond should have known this.

     Elrond just laughed, which seemed to confuse his new companion. “I meant _what_ book, silly,” he said, finally just plopping down on a free spot on the bench.

     The blue eyes followed him and their owner finally sat up straighter. He closed the book and studied the cover a bit. “Just poetry,” he said. “Do you like poetry?”

     “Yeah!” Elrond replied eagerly. And it was true, he did enjoy poetry. Adventurous legends were more to his liking, but honestly, he would read whatever he could get his hands on.

     The other elfling hesitated, then slowly offered him the book. “Be careful with it,” he said. “We brought it from Doriath and Ada will be mad if I damage it.”

    “Doriath?” Elrond asked. He took the book with great reverence, gently opening the cover and flipping through the pages. “Wow…I’ve never met anyone from Doriath before. What’s your name?”

     “I’m Thranduil,” the blond elf replied.

     Elrond grinned at him. “I’m –“

     “El _ROND_!” Elros groused as he marched up to them and stopped beside his brother, hands firmly on his hips. “Come _on_!”

     “I’m making a friend, Elros!” he replied, and huffed.  “Anyway, I’m Elrond, and this is my brother Elros.”

      Thranduil’s eyes widened a little as he stared at them. “You look so much alike…”

     “We’re twins!” Elros said. “And I wanna climb a tree, come _on_ Elrond!”

     Elrond looked back at Thranduil with a slightly exasperated expression. “You want to play with us?” he asked.

     “I don’t like climbing trees…” Thranduil said. He reached out and carefully took his poetry book back from Elrond.

     “Well, we don’t have to do that all day,” Elrond said. “Just once so Elros stops talking about it.”

     “Okay then…” Thranduil looked around a bit, then decided that his book would be safe enough on the bench if he hid it under his cloak, and followed the twins to the tree Elros was so eager to climb. Elros made quick work of the climb and went as close to the top of the tree as he dared. Thranduil tried to be a good sport and climbed a little, but didn’t make it more than a few feet before stopping and clinging to a sturdy branch. Elrond tried to follow his brother at first, then realized Thranduil had stopped climbing, and so he stopped too. While Elros called comments about the view down to them, Elrond chatted with Thranduil about his poetry book, life in Doriath, and what they thought the grown-ups were doing in the council.

     Elros finally grew tired of the view and climbed down the tree, shouting to his brother and Thranduil that they should play hide and seek instead. Thranduil was much more willing to go along with that plan…until it became obvious that he was horrible at hiding, and his hair and clothes didn’t help at all. After the fifth time Elros or Elrond managed to find him with no problem, Elrond pulled him aside and offered him his dark green cloak. “It will help you hide,” he said, laughing a little as he helped Thranduil arrange it. After that, Thranduil did a much better job of hiding, but the three children soon grew tired of that game too and moved on to simply chasing each other around the garden. Thranduil turned out to be incredibly fast and light on his feet, and never seemed to lose whoever he was chasing.

     But all too soon, the day ended, and a guard came to the garden to summon the elflings back to the meeting area so they could return home with their parents and guardians. Thranduil stopped at the bench long enough to collect his things and return Elrond’s cloak to him, and then the three marched back through the garden, talking and laughing like old friends the whole way. Elrond marched in the middle of the group, holding hands with both his brother and his new friend.

     The adults were waiting patiently for them, still talking amongst themselves when the children arrived, and they greeted their young charges warmly. But Elrond found that he was reluctant to let Thranduil go, and apparently the blond elfling felt the same way, for even as the adults said their goodbyes to each other and made tentative plans for future gatherings, the two youngsters didn’t let go of each other’s hands. Finally, Elrond’s parents freed themselves from the crowd and came over to collect their children and meet their new friend. Elrond would never be sure what made him do it – children couldn’t control their impulses as well as adults, perhaps – but as he dropped Thranduil’s hand he had what felt like a sudden surge of insight into his future, and before he knew what he was doing he blurted out, “This is Thranduil. I’m going to marry him someday!”

     A great silence fell over the crowd. Thranduil turned a brilliant shade of pink and grinned sheepishly. Elros’s face twisted into a pained look and he promptly whined at Elrond that no, that wasn’t possible, how could he marry a _boy_. And then, the adults laughed. One particularly tall elf with long blond hair and clear grey eyes pushed his way through the crowd and gave Elrond a rather condescending pat on the head. “Yes, well, we’ll see about that, little elfling,” he said, sounding more than a little patronizing even to the small children. “Come, Thranduil, time to go.”

     Thranduil waved at the twins, then rushed off in his father’s wake, clutching his book to his chest. Elrond for his part chose to ignore the tone in the older elf’s voice. After all, he had seen glimpses of his future once before. He was sure this one would come true too.


	2. Chapter 1

    His eyes were drawn to the striking elf, standing slightly off to the side and surrounded by dozens of admirers, the moment he stepped into the castle’s great hall. And really, who could blame him? Had Elrond bothered to look around, he would have noticed that almost every eye in the place was drawn to the same elf at some point or other, and so he was hardly unusual in his staring. But he was Elrond and a new arrival in these halls, and as he didn’t want to seem terribly rude he quickly found an elegant column to hide behind while he observed the being who had so quickly caught his eye.

     The other elf was tall and slender, as they all were, but there was a confidence and grace about him that even other elves seemed to lack. He laughed easily at the jokes of those gathered around him, tilting his head back in such a way that his long, silvery-gold hair (perfectly smooth and devoid of even the smallest braid, Elrond noted) caught the light and shimmered like a halo. The young elf reached up and pushed his hair off of his shoulder with one delicate, long-fingered hand, and many of those in his presence let out soft sighs of great longing as he did. The blond turned to face one of his companions and Elrond finally got a chance to admire his eyes – light blue, piercing but not in an unkind way, and they sparkled like the stars…or like the tiny white jewels studding his crown. Elrond noted that, while most of those gathered chose to leave their heads bare or to wear simple circlets of silver or gold, perhaps with one or a few small jewels as accents, this young elf’s crown rose up from behind his head in elegant twists and arches reminiscent of vines growing up the sides of columns. The entire thing was made of finest silver with the most understated of gold accents, and liberally sprinkled with white gems. On anyone else, Elrond thought, the crown would have been terribly ostentatious and even silly. But on this elf? The one with silky hair and perfect skin and star-like eyes? Well, on him it just seemed natural.

     Elrond noticed a servant passing him, and he reached out to touch her shoulder and catch her attention. “Excuse me,” he said quietly, “but could you tell me who that is?” He nodded towards the one he had been watching, just in time to see the young elf laugh again.

     The servant’s gaze followed his, and she chuckled. “That one holding court with all the others, you mean?” Elrond nodded, and she continued, “That would be Thranduil Oropherion, of Doriath. One of the many young ellith and ellyn to grace Gil-Galad’s court in Lindon these days.”

     “Thank you,” Elrond replied, and the servant gave him a quick nod of respect before scurrying away to finish her work. Elrond, for his part, simply leaned on his column and continued to watch Thranduil. That name, it sounded so familiar to him, like something out of a dream or a memory long faded. He frowned in concentration and repeated the name over and over in his head, pondering each syllable and sound as he struggled to remember – and suddenly there it was. That memory of a day in his childhood spent playing with a blonde elfling who had to be coaxed into climbing trees, who preferred to simply watch as Elrond and his brother Elros climbed ever higher, but who was quite happy to play chasing and hiding games with them when the twins finally came down from the tree. He remembered that the pale little elfling had been easy to find (that hair would give him away anywhere) but almost impossible to escape or catch. And he had laughed easily…just as he did now.

     Elrond also remembered the pronouncement he had made to the grown-up elves when he, his brother, and Thranduil had finally been called back to return with their parents and guardians to their respective homes: _This is Thranduil. I’m going to marry him someday!_

     And then, quite suddenly, as though someone had called his name or the memories had summoned him, Thranduil’s gaze left the faces of his fawning admirers and scanned the crowd…and within moments, his eyes met Elrond’s, and there was a spark. It exploded between them like the lightning of a summer storm in the mountains and left Elrond breathless for what felt like an eternity and a mere instant all at once. And then the eyes that sparkled like stars moved on and Elrond suddenly found himself feeling that Thranduil must not have been looking at him on purpose after all. Perhaps he was just looking around the room out of curiosity. The brown-haired elf felt exceptionally silly. To think that Thranduil, by far the most beautiful being in the room, might have been looking at him on purpose…to think that Thranduil might have felt the same jolt that went through him when their eyes met…to think he had ever thought he would marry Thranduil…

     _Just the follies of childhood,_ he thought. _How easily they come and how difficult they are to lose, even when grown._

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. This struck him as incredibly silly at first. _Of course_ he was being watched. Not only did he have a crowd of fawning admirers surrounding him, but he was very well aware that every eye in the room had been or would be on him at some point during the evening, if only for a moment. It was like that wherever he went, and had been for as long as he could remember. Even as a child being carted around in his parents’ arms (or in the arms of a servant), he had garnered more attention than he had ever needed. And as he had matured and become a fully-grown elf, his parents had encouraged him to be as attentive to his looks and to the impression he made as he was to his studies – and Thranduil was _very_ studious.

     So he was in no way surprised that people were looking at him. That was inevitable, as far as he was concerned. What surprised him was that he noticed, and that the feeling of being watched was in no way threatening, as it normally would have to be to get his attention in such a crowded room. Rather, it felt as though whoever was watching him so attentively was simply curious about him, with no specific intentions towards him.

     He turned his attention away from those surrounding him and instead shifted his gaze to look at the rest of the elves milling about the room. He scanned each individual, each group, but so far none caught his attention. For the most part, they weren’t paying attention to him. If someone did happen to look in his direction, it was to give him a quick look before going back to whatever they had been doing before. No, his feeling didn’t come from any of those people. He was definitely looking for someone whose gaze was more…sustained. Focused.

     Finally, he noticed the elf, half-hidden behind a carved pillar. Yes, that was the source of his feeling. Even as their eyes met, the brown-haired elf didn’t turn away or in any way try to hide the fact that he had been watching Thranduil. In fact, it almost seemed as though he didn’t realize he had been caught. Thranduil held his gaze for a moment, feeling a shiver go up his spine as he stared into those beautiful grey eyes, but then he broke the contact and let his eyes sweep over the rest of the room as though nothing had happened. He turned his attention back to his companions. But every so often he would glance out of the corner of his eye to sneak a surreptitious look at the mysterious elf.

     Tall and thin, of course. Were there any of their kind who weren’t? His brown hair was mostly loose, with only a few well-placed braids to decorate it and a thin silver band circling his brow. Plain, really, nothing special about it…or about its wearer, Thranduil thought. But…there were those eyes. So deep, such a lovely shade of grey. And while the elf might not have been able to hold even the dimmest of candles to Thranduil in terms of sheer beauty, he had a quiet dignity about him that impressed the golden-haired one. That one would be formidable, if he wasn’t already. And perhaps also interesting.

     Not that it would be that difficult for anyone or anything to be more interesting than his current companions. Valar, but did they really have nothing else to talk about besides clothes and wine? Thranduil loved a beautiful outfit and a good drink as much as (maybe even more than) the next elf, but he liked talking about other things too. Didn’t any of these people _read_?

     Finally, deciding that he had had quite enough discussion of Gil-Galad’s latest fancy armor and whether or not this year’s newly-opened wine was better than last year’s, he quietly excused himself and slipped away from the crowd, out the nearest door, and into the gardens. He wandered down the winding path, through trees and bushes and patches of flowers, until he came to a nice little stone bench beside a fountain. He glanced around a bit, then settled onto one end of the bench, closed his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. Being an elf his hearing was excellent, so he could still hear the party, but the sound was largely muffled by the space and plants between them and by the soft rushing of water through the fountain. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air, then opened his eyes and stared up at the stars. Ah, but they were lovely tonight, and this was indeed a fine way to relax.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Elrond watched Thranduil escape his admirers and slip out the nearest door, and for a few moments he felt the tension of indecision in his chest. On the one hand, he thought Thranduil might have left because he wanted some privacy and quiet, and that it would be rude to disturb him. But on the other hand, Elrond wished to speak with him, to at least find out if Thranduil also remembered the day they had played together as children, and there was just no way he would be able to do so with Thranduil surrounded by a crowd. He went back and forth between the two options, then finally decided that Thranduil was clearly a grown elf these days and more than capable of making his needs and wishes known to Elrond. He could certainly make it clear if he wanted to be alone, and Elrond would comply with that wish once it became known to him. But in the meantime, he decided, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to follow the blond elf. And so he too slipped from the room, going in search of the other elf in the garden.

     It didn’t take him long to find Thranduil, and once he did he simply stopped and hung back for a bit so he could admire the sight before him. Thranduil sat quiet and still on the end of a stone bench, his head tilted back and the soft light of the moon and stars seeming to make his hair, skin, and even soft silvery robe glow more than normal for an elf. A gentle breeze caught his hair and made some of the fine strands float and dance for a few moments until the breeze died down. Thranduil turned his head just a bit to get a different view of the sky, making his hair shimmer and the jewels in his crown sparkle.

     “It’s like the beauty of the Silmarils themselves has been embodied and brought to life,” Elrond breathed. He didn’t even realize he had, though, until Thranduil’s head turned, stopping just short of the point where he would have been able to look back over his shoulder. Elrond’s blood ran cold. Had he just blown his chance? Would Thranduil be angry?

     “I have heard many overwrought words of flattery in my time,” Thranduil said, and his deep, haughty voice turned Elrond’s blood from ice to fire in an instant. “But that one _must_ be one of the…ah…best.”

     Elrond took a deep breath to regain his composure and finally stepped out of the shadows, rounding the free end of the bench and pausing in front of it, trying to decide if Thranduil would allow him to sit or not. “Is it mere flattery if the words are said sincerely?” he asked. Though he had never meant the words to reach Thranduil’s ears, they had. He might as well own them, now.

     Those starry blue eyes seemed to bore into him. “In any case, do not think you are the first to try to woo me with pretty words,” Thranduil said. “Many an elleth and ellon before you has tried. But my affection and favors are not so easily won.”

     Elrond slowly sank down onto the bench, keeping his eyes on Thranduil to gage his reaction. When no reaction came, he folded his hands in his lap and said, “And what if I am not here to woo you? Perhaps I was merely making an observation.”

     “It seems a bit odd to follow me out of a party just to make a rather exaggerated observation,” Thranduil pointed out dryly.

     “I still say it is not so exaggerated,” Elrond countered. He held up a hand to stop Thranduil from interrupting, and added, “I merely wished to greet an old playmate, but felt that doing so would be utterly impossible with that crowd surrounding you.” Thranduil’s normally-smooth brow furrowed and his lips pursed in confusion, so Elrond continued, “We only met once, I can hardly be upset if you do not remember me…you met my brother as well, and we played while our…while the adults held council for some reason or other. I remember that you did not wish to climb trees and you were terrible at hiding, but you had excellent taste in books and we made my brother _so_ frustrated with our chatter about all the things we had read.”

     Thranduil’s frown deepened. “Your brother…and…hiding…and…” suddenly, his face lit up and the frown vanished. “ _Elrond_? Is it you?”

     Elrond laughed and nodded. “It is! You do remember!”

     “How could I not?” Thranduil countered, grinning brightly at him. “Your brother was just so insistent that we climb that stupid tree, and you followed him, but you only went half-way because you did not wish to abandon me and our conversation either.”

     “Goodness, I had quite forgotten about that,” Elrond said. “But I remember giving you my cloak to cover your hair, so you could hide without being found so easily. And I remember that Elros might have beat us both at hiding, but not even he could outrun you when we tired of that and played chase instead.”

     Thranduil nodded a bit. “I always was a fast runner.” He leaned a little closer to Elrond. “But are you certain you have not come to woo me? I seem to remember that you had quite the plan for us. And you told it to _everyone._ ”

     Elrond nearly fell off the bench from laughing. “I’m sure, I’m sure!” he said. “It…was a childhood folly, nothing more.”

     “Ah, well, a pity for you,” Thranduil teased. He looked up as the sounds from the party changed. “And I believe that may be my cue to leave for the night…we should exchange letters sometime. Where are you living now?”

     “Here, in Lindon. I only just arrived,” Elrond replied.

     “Really?” Thranduil asked. Elrond nodded, and he added, “Then we may not need letters, for this is my home as well. I am certain we will see each other again. Until our next meeting.” He favored Elrond with an elegant bow, then turned away and disappeared up the path, muttering under his breath, “The Silmarils, _really_ now.” But he chuckled a little as he did.

     Elrond waited until he was certain Thranduil was out of hearing range, then whispered, “It is not my fault if it’s true…Thranduil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish!  
> ellon/ellyn -- male elf/elves  
> elleth/ellith -- female elf/elves (or did I get the plural and singular forms mixed up...)


	3. Chapter 2

     Elrond had no idea how Thranduil spent his days, nor did he have time to find out. Elrond had come to Lindon specifically to serve Gil-galad, which meant that he had many duties to learn and attend to. He was to be groomed as one of Gil-galad’s captains, a task that would require much effort and attention on his part. But still, every so often he was sent off to fulfill some task and in the course of doing so, he would encounter Thranduil. The other elf was almost always surrounded by an entourage of lively companions, and that combined with Elrond’s work meant they never got to exchange more than the simplest of pleasantries. Even so, he was curious to know more about the blond elf, and so he kept an eye out for opportunities to learn.

     He didn’t expect such a chance to fall into his lap.

     With another hard day of work, study, and practice behind him, Elrond made his way to the small dining room where he ate with the others being trained to serve under Gil-galad. The room was rough (by Elvish standards) and the food, while hearty, was hardly fancy, as befitted their relatively low status in Gil-galad’s army. But the wine was always delicious and free-flowing (for those off-duty at least), and the conversation always entertaining, so Elrond never complained. This evening, though, he walked into the middle of a drama already in progress.

     “How could he be so _cold_?” his friend Arodir wailed. “Couldn’t he have been more kind?”

     “A kind rejection is still a rejection,” Callon stated as he tried to choose a cheese to go with his bread. “Better that he did it bluntly, I say. At least this way you know.”

     “Who rejected Arodir, and for what did he receive the rejection?” Elrond asked as he took his seat. He accepted a basket of bread from one of his comrades and selected a few chunks before passing it on and reaching for the cheese platter in the center of their table.

     “Arodir sent a letter to Thranduil absolutely _begging_ to be allowed to help wash his hair,” Callon said. “Thranduil’s reply was to return the letter with ‘I refuse’ written on the bottom of it, not even a signature to go with it. Definitely his hand, though, I’ve seen enough of his writing to know.”

     Elrond was trying to decide what was worse, Arodir’s odd request or Thranduil’s blunt rejection, when the small group’s commander, Tarador arrived. Elrond knew that if his training was successful, he would be taking over this man’s position and eventually becoming his superior. Tarador knew that too, and he was tough on Elrond, but never unfair. And right now, Elrond could see that he had a clear opinion on the hair-washing situation.

    “I told you that this would happen, didn’t I?” he said as he poured himself some wine. “Look, I don’t care how pretty his hair is, what you asked of him was completely unreasonable and you’ll be lucky if he ever even speaks to you again. In fact, I would say you’re lucky his father never caught wind of this.”

     “Is his father dangerous?” Elrond asked.

     Tarador shrugged a little. “He is Oropher. Oropher is powerful and ambitious, but he strikes me as a little…odd, perhaps even unhinged, or about to be anyway. He isn’t one to be trifled with. Nor, for that matter, is his son.” He sipped his wine a bit, then continued. “Listen, all of you. I know Thranduil is the darling of the court and everyone wants to be his friend, or more, but earning his attention is best compared to climbing a wild mountain – many will try, most will fail. If any succeed, they won’t be coming back from the trip to tell us how to do it.”

     Callon frowned. “What do you mean?”

     “I mean, when everyone seems to want you for some reason, you don’t give away even casual courtesies lightly,” Tarador said. “Few know his true heart, even as simple friends. Many have _thought_ they did, only to discover otherwise, and often in rather painful ways too. And then of course we have the ones like Arodir here,” he pointedly eyed the elf in question, who at least had the sense to bow his head in shame, “who make things more difficult for everyone by asking for terribly inappropriate favors and then have the gall to be surprised when Thranduil is blunt or harsh in his rejection.”

     Elrond took an apple from a fruit bowl that made its way around the table. As he sliced it, he asked, “So would you say that Thranduil is unkind? Perhaps cruel, even?”

     Tarador shook his head firmly. “Oh no, not at all. Just guarded. His public face is almost certainly not his private one. And while his erstwhile suitors are sad when he refuses their advances, I have never heard any speak poorly of him.” He turned his attention to Elrond. “You’re new here and haven’t yet had the time to properly fall under his spell, so let me give you a word of advice: Tread carefully with him, not because he is dangerous or mean, but because you can so easily misunderstand your standing with him and the end result can be painful. And his father _is_ one to be cautious around. But unless you should actually harm Thranduil, or become much closer than anyone I know has managed, you will most likely never deal with Oropher. He doesn’t spend much time here in Lindon anymore anyway.”

     “Thank you,” Elrond replied. “I’ll remember that.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     More days passed, and as usual Elrond found that he had no chance to speak with Thranduil. Or at least, any chance would have involved an audience of elves who seemed to practically worship the ground Thranduil walked on, not to mention the feet he used to walk on it, and Elrond had no desire to be involved in that. In addition to having a preference for private conversations, Elrond felt that doing anything that made him seem to have anything in common with Arodir or any of the crowd chasing Thranduil would give the wrong impression of his intentions. He truly wanted to be a friend to the other elf, to see if the brief friendship they had developed that day as children might actually go somewhere if it had the chance. And so, he decided to write Thranduil a letter.

     Which he did. A very nice letter too, if not terribly exciting.

     And then it dawned on him that he had no idea how to get it to Thranduil safely.

      Given his relatively low rank, Elrond didn’t have people to call on to deliver messages to others. He also had no idea who might have enough contact with Thranduil to deliver the message, or who could be trusted to do so. He briefly considered asking Arodir, since he had successfully exchanged letters with the golden-haired elf on at least one occasion, but then decided not to use whatever courier Arodir had used if he could help it. Anything he could do to separate himself from that particular elf and his bizarre request seemed good.

     So Elrond resorted to carrying his letter around in the hopes that a chance would present itself. And then, one day, it did. He was on his way to his shift as a guard when he crossed paths with a young, brown-haired elf. The young ellon looked as though he had only just barely entered adulthood, though his general bearing made him seem a bit older, and his clothes indicated that he served one of the many nobles in Lindon rather than being a noble himself. And he looked oddly familiar somehow…

     “You there!” he called. The elf turned to look at him and tilted his head. “May I speak with you?”

     “I suppose. Though I shouldn’t dally, my lord’s son is expecting me back soon.”

     “Then I will be brief with you,” Elrond assured him. “You look familiar. I believe I have seen you before. Who is your lord?”

     “Oropher, sir,” the young elf replied. “Though I mostly serve his son, Thranduil. I am Galion, Thranduil’s aide.”

     Elrond fought a grin. Here it was, then. His perfect chance. “Thranduil, you say? I don’t suppose I could ask a favor of you?”

     Galion studied Elrond’s face for a moment, then sighed, rolled his eyes, and held out his hand. “Fine, hand it over.”

     “Excuse me?” Elrond said, utterly aghast at Galion’s behavior. “I’m shocked that one in the service of Lord Oropher could be so rude and presumptuous as to –“

     “Look…what was your name? In any case, I’m sorry, but I’m sure we’re _both_ very busy, and if you think you’re the first to use me as a courier to carry letters and baubles to Thanduil you are _sorely_ mistaken. Now, have I misread you, or do you have something you want delivered safely and discretely to my lord’s son?”

     Elrond hesitated. On the one hand, he was loath to hand over private and sensitive correspondence to one so…so…rude and cheeky as this Galion. But on the other hand, what better chance would he have? And asking Galion to deliver the message was certainly more appropriate than trying to find a moment to stuff it into Thranduil’s hand himself. “Yes,” he finally said, and pulled the sealed note from where he kept it in his tunic. “If you would be so kind.”

     Galion nodded in satisfaction and took the letter, deft hands making it disappear into the folds of his own clothing. “Then I will see to it that your letter reaches its destination. And that you receive your reply.” He bowed and began to walk away, then turned to look at Elrond over his shoulder and added, “If there is one.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “This one had better not be another person begging to wash my hair,” Thranduil groaned as he took the letter from Galion.

      “Well, it’s from another one of those guards, so it might be,” Galion replied. “I didn’t read it though.”

     “Maybe you should start reading them,” Thranduil said. “You know, to keep out the truly odd ones.”

     Galion snorted. “I’ve seen some of those letters, when you have shown me,” he said. “I truly have no desire to see more and I hope that if someone tries to court me with letters someday, they aren’t so…strange.”

     “Don’t get your hopes up,” Thranduil muttered. “You know, I’m still trying to figure out that one who asked me if the forest floor matched the treetops. Why doesn’t he just go to the forest and look for himself?”

     Galion snickered a little – he was much more romantically experienced than Thranduil and definitely knew what the odd phrase meant – but he quickly stifled the snicker. “No idea,” he said, shaking his head. “Now are you going to open that one or not?”

     Thranduil turned the letter over in his hands. “I…it has no name on it to tell me who sent it…” he said. “Here,” he added, thrusting the letter back at Galion. “You open it and read the signature to me.”

     Galion decided to take pity on Thranduil, so he took the letter, opened it, and searched for the signature at the end. “…Elrond? Do we know an Elrond?”

     “I do,” Thranduil replied as he took the letter back. “But not at all well. You have never met him before.” And then he fell silent so he could read the letter.

 

_Dear Thranduil, (or perhaps I should address you with a title?)_

_Writing you a letter was rather difficult. I felt as if our conversation at the party ended before it had a chance to properly begin, and unfortunately it and our limited history has left me with very little to work with. Thus, I hope you can forgive me if my first effort to communicate with you seems a little…lacking. But I find that it is not every day I have the opportunity to reconnect with a childhood acquaintance, and felt that I should take the chance while I had it._

_I find myself wondering if you still like to read, as I know you once did. If so, I brought a rather fine volume of poetry with me from Beleriand that might interest you, should you wish to borrow it. I suspect it is not as lovely as your tome of poetry from Doriath, but it still has some value._

_Alas, I must cut my note short, for I am being summoned for my daily round of guard duty. Until later, then._

_Regards,_

_Elrond_

     “Well he certainly hasn’t given me much to go on…” Thranduil said. “But at least he has the sense to leave my hair out of it.”

     Galion leaned on the wall near Thranduil’s desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Will you write back?”

     “I think so…I see no harm in it, at any rate.” Thranduil considered the letter for another moment, then collected some parchment and a quill and set to work. When he finished, he handed the note to Galion. “There. Take that to him whenever you have time, please.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to have to come up with a new chapter numbering system. Having a prologue has thrown things off, since AO3 keeps track of chapters on its own...
> 
> ANYWAY, a big thank you to all who have left me comments, kudos, and bookmarks so far! It's always so encouraging to get feedback like that. I hope you keep enjoying the rest of the story :)

    Elrond fell back onto his cot and stared at the bottom of the one above him. He was certainly not used to this sort of sleeping arrangement, but he accepted it. It was part of his training, and temporary. His bunkmates were quiet and friendly, and the bed itself wasn’t uncomfortable. But at times like this he did wish for some privacy.

     Earlier that day, while he stood watch near the gates, Galion had come sauntering up with a rather self-satisfied smirk on his face, and had casually handed Elrond a letter. It was sealed with green wax stamped in a seal he didn’t recognize, and the parchment was far finer than that he had used for his own letter. Galion’s smirk unnerved the half-elf, but the aide had simply gone back from wherever he had come once his task was completed and Elrond had been forced to hide the letter away and exercise patience. He hadn’t had even a moment to himself until now, though, but despite the fact that the last minutes before lights-out were his to do with as he pleased, he was nervous about reading his letter where others might catch him.

     Then again, his note to Thranduil had been quite innocent. What was the worst the young noble could have written? He couldn’t see any way his new friends could possibly humiliate him the way they had with Arodir earlier. Finally, he pulled the note from inside his tunic, rolled over onto his stomach, and opened it.

 

_Elrond,_

_You may call me Thranduil. Though I am a Lord’s son, I have no title of my own._

_You have a sharp memory, I see. Indeed, though it may not seem like it, I much prefer the company of books._

_I believe it might be easier to rekindle our acquaintance if we could actually speak with one another. I plan to hide in the library tomorrow. If you have a moment to join me, please do so. I will be near the large west-facing windows, as far to the back as one can go. This information is for your eyes only. Nobody else is to know._

_Thanduil_

 

     And that was that, then. Elrond had no idea how he would get time to sneak off to the library, but he would certainly try. And if he failed, well, he would just have to write to Thranduil again, wouldn’t he? Before he went to bed, he folded the letter and tucked it into the small under-bed box where he kept his few personal items.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Elrond still couldn’t believe his luck. After breakfast that morning, one of his comrades had come to him, begging Elrond to switch guard-duty shifts with him…which gave Elrond several free hours to enjoy as he pleased, since his friend was currently on duty for him. Unfortunately it meant that he would be up well into the night, and in any other circumstances Elrond would be trying to get some rest to make up for that which he would lose to overnight guard duty, but today he had another use for his time.

     He stopped in the barracks first to retrieve his poetry book from his possessions, then continued on to the library. It was a beautiful place, with high ceilings and tall shelves that groaned under the weight of books and scrolls more marvelous than any he had been privileged to see so far. Few books lined the walls, though, as they were mostly given over to tall windows that provided the most marvelous views of the castle gardens and the natural beauty beyond the castle walls. Elrond worked his way through the shelves, sometimes pausing to admire the view for a moment or to get a good look at some volume that caught his eye (he would have to remember to ask permission to study the library’s collections on healing and herbal arts), but otherwise wasted no time in working his way to the back of the library. Once there, he turned towards the western windows in search of Thranduil.

      The gorgeous elf was easy to find. He had taken over a plush chair near the windows and had a stack of books piled up beside it. He was lounging almost sideways in the chair, with his head rested on the chair back and his long legs draped over its arm. A heavy-looking, leather-bound book rested in his lap, and he turned the pages with one hand while absent-mindedly toying with a lock of hair with the other. His lips were parted just a bit as he read, and he seemed completely oblivious to the outside world.

     Elrond could have easily stood there and watched Thranduil like that all day.

     “I know you’re there,” Thranduil finally said, his words making Elrond jump. The golden-haired elf turned his head to look back at Elrond and grinned. “Though…I honestly thought you never would be.”

     “I very nearly wasn’t, but a change in my duties allowed it.” Elrond glanced around until he found a chair that looked easy to move, and made quick work of moving it close to where Thranduil sat. By the time he was finished, the other elf had swung his legs off the chair arm and sat up more properly. “I brought the poetry book, by the way,” Elrond said, holding it out to him.

      Thranduil blushed a little and took it. “Thank you,” he said. “I will much prefer this to the dry thing I have been reading.”

     Elrond tilted his head to read the title of Thranduil’s book. “ ‘A treatise on the uses of athelas.’ That sounds like something I should read.”

     “Oh?” Thranduil tilted his head a little and some of his hair slipped from his shoulder. “Do you aspire to be a healer as well as Gil-galad’s herald?”

     “How did you know about that?”

      He shrugged. “I have connections, and I hear things. But you have not answered my question.”

      Elrond nodded. “I…am a healer,” he said. “It seems to be an inborn talent in me, and one I refuse to waste. But there is always room for improvement through learning, is there not?”

    “Indeed,” Thranduil replied. He sighed a little and closed his eyes. “I feel that I should know these things, as a future Lord, but…the herbs hold such little interest for me…”

      “Perhaps you would benefit from hands-on instruction,” Elrond said.

     The star-like eyes flew open, then narrowed as Thranduil stared at Elrond. “What are you suggesting?” he hissed.

      The intensity of Thranduil’s gaze unnerved Elrond a little. What did he _think_ Elrond was suggesting? “That you would enjoy learning more if you could…I don’t know,” he waved a hand at the window to indicate the scenery outside, “…go out into the fields and forests and pluck the herbs yourself, then bring them back and actually make useful things with them.” He paused to let that sink in a little, then said, “If I can get the time, I can take you, and show you some basic things. If it pleases you, of course. If you are comfortable with it.”

     Thranduil pondered this for a moment, eyes still fixed on Elrond’s face. “And what would you get out of this arrangement?”

     “Why do I have to get something out of it? I am not offering it for myself.”

     “There is always something. Others always want something from me.”

     Elrond shook his head and began to reach out to touch Thranduil’s arm, then thought better of it and simply rested his hand on the chair arm. “I want nothing, though I will not pretend that spending more time with you would not be a pleasure. But I swear to you…I have no ulterior motive. There is nothing I would ask of you in exchange for this.”

      The idea seemed alien to Thranduil, Elrond realized. He wondered just how many people were always asking Thranduil for some favor or other, and he remembered Thranduil’s words: _My affection and my favors are not so easily given_. Elrond wondered what it must be like to be pestered constantly by people who claimed to admire you, and who wanted strange things from you, all because they found you beautiful.

     He vowed never to do that to Thranduil.

     “I…suppose it would be acceptable, then,” Thranduil finally said. “But if your time is already so limited…”

     “I plan to ask for special permission to study healing and herbal arts,” Elrond replied. “You could join me, at least some of the time.”

      “You are due for a promotion soon anyway,” Thranduil replied, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out to rest on the plush chair arms. “Strange as it may seem, you will have more time then.”

     Elrond just stared at him for a moment. “How do you…but I only just arrived…”

     Thranduil chuckled. “I hear things, remember? People speak freely around me for some odd reason.”

     “Your stunning beauty lulls them into a sense of safety,” Elrond said dryly.

     Thranduil’s chuckle turned to a full laugh, like music to Elrond’s ears. “Ah yes, the beauty of…what was it…a Silmaril embodied and brought to life.”

     “Now you’re just making fun of me,” Elrond said, and swatted Thranduil’s knee, much as he often did when Elros teased him.

     “It’s not my fault if you make it easy,” Thranduil replied, and (much to Elrond’s shock) he winked.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     It would be several weeks before Elrond had a chance to make good on his promise. In that time, Thranduil’s prediction that he would be promoted came true, and Elrond sought and received permission to devote some of his time to his healing studies. But finally one day, as the summer drew to a close, he sent Thranduil a note requesting that the noble elf be ready to meet him for an herb-gathering expedition early the following morning. Elrond went to bed that night not knowing if Thranduil had received the note, or if he would show up.

    But he did show up. Thranduil met Elrond at the gates, dressed (for once) in a simple green tunic with brown leggings and boots, a pair of knives strapped to his back and an empty pouch to carry herbs slung over his shoulder where it wouldn’t interfere with his weapons.

     “Knives?” Elrond asked as he approached.

     “I’m quite fine, thank you, and how are you?” Thranduil replied, his face carefully schooled to look perfectly neutral, almost cold. When Elrond just stared at him in confusion, though, he grinned and laughed. “What kind of greeting is ‘knives,’ Elrond?”

      “You are awful, you know?” Elrond replied, but he grinned back at Thranduil. The other elf kept laughing as they left the gates, and Elrond just watched him and smiled. Between this and that day in the library, he realized that he loved making Thranduil laugh. His voice was beautiful, and there was something about the fact that he had become so comfortable so quickly around Elrond that made the dark-haired elf pleased. Over the past few weeks, he had learned that while Thranduil appeared quick to laugh at parties or among his admirers in the hallways, it wasn’t the same as the way he laughed when it was just the two of them together. This laugh, the one he was favoring Elrond with now, was the genuine one.

     “So where are we going?” Thranduil asked, pulling Elrond out of his reverie and back to the present day.

     “Not too far. A little way into the forest,” Elrond replied, nodding to the line of trees ahead of them. “Lots of valuable herbs in there. Apparently the healers are particularly low on athelas lately and I promised to bring them some.”

     “Are you so kind and helpful to everybody?”

     Elrond felt his face flush. “I try to be. Is that so bad?”

     “Not at all,” Thranduil said. The two walked in silence for a bit, then he added, “It just says a lot about the kind of person you are.”

     “And?”

      Thranduil shrugged a little and grinned. “I am out here with you, am I not? I think I like the kind of person you are.”

     Elrond turned his head to look at Thranduil, who was staring straight ahead now. “I have heard that you have few true friends. Why is that?”

     The grin faded from Thranduil’s face and he took on a very serious look. “Few are worthy of it, I suppose.”

     “That sounds a bit snobbish of you.”

      “But is it truly? Most of those around me wish to bed me,” Thranduil said, finally turning to meet Elrond’s gaze. “Is that true friendship?”

      “No, of course not.”

      “Then I think it is not snobbish of me to refuse their advances and to refuse to call them friends.” Thranduil tilted his head a little. “You promised me that you would ask nothing of me in return for teaching me. I am taking you at your word, because I still remember the child I knew, even if we did know each other for only a few hours. I felt that you were trustworthy then. Was I wrong? Am I wrong now?”

      “Not to my knowledge,” Elrond replied. “Though of course I fear disappointing you.”

      Thranduil sighed in exasperation and stopped dead on the path, which forced Elrond to stop too. “Are you or are you not going to try to take me to your bed after this?”

       Elrond frowned. “Thranduil…” Now it was his turn to sigh. “I…will not deny that I find you beautiful. You _are_ beautiful, and I think you know that, and you know how your beauty influences others.” Thranduil looked quite sour now, but Elrond pressed on. “But I think there is far more to you than that, and I intend to become better acquainted with the _person_ who is Thranduil, not just the pretty face.”

     For a moment, it didn’t seem that Thranduil would believe him. But then the blond elf smiled a little and glanced down, cheeks taking on a distinct pink tone. “I…thank you,” he said. “I will hold you to that, you know.”

     “I would not expect anything less,” Elrond replied, and turned to continue on to the forest.

     The two spent the entire day there, collecting as many herbs as Elrond could identify and thought the healers might want. He taught Thranduil how to identify and harvest the athelas, and mostly left him the task of collecting the precious herb while Elrond sought other ones, though Elrond did keep an eye on him and made sure to check everything he brought back to make sure it was the right thing. They only paused for lunch, and didn’t leave the forest until the sun began to set. It was safe here in Lindon for now, and neither felt any need to rush. In fact, they dawdled so long in leaving the forest that the stars were out by the time they actually returned to the path to go home.

     Thranduil handed his bag of herbs to Elrond and then ran ahead a few steps. As Elrond watched in complete shock, he flung his arms out to his sides and twirled on the spot, silvery-gold hair flying out behind him, and turned his face up to the stars as he laughed. “They’re so beautiful tonight!” Thranduil called back to him. He stopped as Elrond came up alongside him and grinned at his companion.

     Elrond looked up for a second, then turned his attention back to Thranduil and nodded. “They certainly are.”

    “You barely even looked!”

     Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Thranduil, if you’re going to spend time with me you have to get used to the fact that I’m going to prefer admiring you to admiring anything else.”

     “Well fine, stare at me all you want. You’re missing out,” Thranduil replied, looking up at the sky once more.

     Elrond just laughed. “I think not, my friend,” he replied, which earned him a shy grin from Thranduil.

     “Will you come to the library tomorrow?” Thranduil asked him. “I…want to return your book. I finished it.”

     “If I can. But I make no promises,” Elrond replied. They walked in silence for a while, Thranduil occasionally looking up at the stars and Elrond mostly just watching Thranduil. When they finally came to the gates, though, Elrond slowed. “Thranduil…”

     Two figures waited for them at the gate. One Elrond recognized as Gil-galad, but the other he didn’t know. The blond hair seemed oddly familiar, though…

     “My father, back from the Greenwood,” Thranduil whispered. “But why?”

     Gil-galad was the first to speak to them. “Ah, there you both are! We were all beginning to worry. It’s quite late, you know.”

     “We had much work to do,” Elrond said. “Thranduil wished for me to teach him some about herbs, and the healers specifically asked me to collect some athelas for them today.”

     “And did you succeed?” That time it was Oropher who spoke. His voice sent a shiver up Elrond’s spine, but not for the same reason Thranduil’s did. There was something intimidating in the older elf’s voice, and Elrond didn’t like it.

     Elrond turned to Oropher and gave him a brief bow. “We did, my lord. Forgive me for not introducing myself before, I am –“

     “I know who you are,” Oropher replied coldly. “And I would speak with my son. Privately.”

     Gil-galad motioned for Elrond to follow him, but Elrond took the time to look at Thranduil first. His face was a stony mask in his father’s presence, though his eyes darted to Elrond once and he gave the tiniest of nods, indicating that Elrond should go. “Of course,” he said. “Good night my lord, Thranduil,” he added before following Gil-galad back into the fortress.

     Oropher paced around Thranduil, eyes fixed on his son the whole time. “And what is the half-elven’s interest in you?” he finally asked.

     “Elrond wishes to be my friend,” Thranduil replied. “We have met before. I played with him and with his twin once.”

     “Ah yes,” Oropher replied, and though Thranduil couldn’t see it because Oropher was behind him at the time, he could practically hear his father sneering. “I remember now. Your future husband.” The older elf’s voice practically dripped with sarcasm as he spoke. “He is quite beneath you.”

     “Does it matter? He has expressed an interest in friendship and nothing more,” Thranduil replied, turning his head a little to look at his father.

      “And you believe him?”

     Thranduil hesitated, the nodded. “I do. I trust him.”

     Oropher sighed and stopped in front of Thranduil. “My son. You know how people _are_ with you. It’s only a matter of time, don’t you think?”

     “I can take care of myself, and long before that time arrives, I can break off our friendship,” Thranduil replied, voice thick with sadness at the thought of losing a true friend. “But surely I can take this chance, Adar? You know I have no one here.”

     “You have me.”

     “And I love you, but that is not the same.” Thranduil gulped a little. _And I often think you needlessly cruel when it comes to my heart,_ he thought, but couldn’t work up the courage to say so. “Besides, you spend so much time in the Greenwood now…”

     Oropher studied Thranduil, then turned away and made his way up the path to the fortress. “Just remember, when he hurts you like they all do, that I warned you.”


	5. Chapter 4

     Elrond did not get to visit the library the next day, or the day after, and when he saw Thranduil he thought that the other elf looked terribly sad somehow. Nobody else seemed to notice, though, and he wondered if it was just his own mind playing tricks on him. But the moment he realized a third day would go by without seeing Thanduil in person, he finally carved out the time to write him a note. Galion was easy enough to find, and he cheerfully agreed to bring the letter to Thranduil. Relieved that he would at least be able to explain himself to Thranduil, if not see the elf in person, he went about his duties for the rest of the day.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Letter for you from Elrond,” Galion said as he sidled up to Thranduil’s seat in the library.

     Thranduil sighed as he took it. “I would rather he just come see me…”

     Galion shook his head and rested his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “I don’t think he _can_ ,” he said. “They keep him really busy.”

     “Well, at least I know he cares enough to write,” Thranduil said, and he unfolded the note to read it.

 

_Dear Thranduil,_

_I must apologize for not visiting you in the library these three days. My duties and studies have kept me too busy and I barely even have a moment to myself. But I wanted to reassure you that I have not forgotten you. When I see you in the halls lately, you seem so sad. It may just be my imagination – I hope so – but if not, I wish you would at least tell me what troubles you. I may not be able to spend time with you as often as we would like, but I can still read letters, and write them._

_I hope your father was not upset with you. He seemed angry. Is he the cause of your sorrow?_

_The healers very much appreciated the athelas you found, and were quite surprised when I told them you had gathered it. In fact, they have invited you to join me in my lessons, if you wish. I think it will be a little difficult for you to follow them, since you have had little experience with herbs and healing, but you may still enjoy it and will still learn something. Would you like to try? My next lesson is tomorrow after lunch in the infirmary._

_I must go now. Gil-galad has asked me to accompany him to some meetings and I cannot keep him waiting._

_Best,_

_Elrond_

_PS: If you do come tomorrow, wear old clothes and no jewelry. Herbs can be messy business._

 

     Thranduil smiled a little as he read the letter, then let it fall into his lap and tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he thought. It wasn’t until he heard Galion’s impatient huff that he opened them again. “What?”

     “Are you going to write back?” Galion asked.

     “No…I think I will just show up to his lesson tomorrow. I wish to see _him_ , not more of his handwriting.”

     Galion let out a little snort of disbelief. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. “Because that letter clearly did things to you no elleth or ellon has ever done before.”

     “…What are you implying, Galion?”

     “Not much,” the young aide said. “Just that there’s more to your relationship with Elrond than mere friendship, I believe. Do you disagree?”

     Thranduil looked down at the note and nodded slowly. “For now, I do. I like Elrond, and admire him, and I was harsh in my initial assessment of his looks. But I work too hard to control my own life to let a nice pair of eyes and a kind disposition be my undoing.”

     “If you say so,” Galion said, though it was clear he didn’t believe Thranduil at all.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil showed up at the infirmary just in time for the lesson after lunch, and was both surprised and pleased at the warm welcome he received from the healers. Elrond, for his part, was already behind a table sorting herbs and other ingredients, but he looked up and smiled when Thranduil entered. The new arrival was quickly sent to Elrond’s table and assigned the task of helping him sort the herbs, and then, when that task was finished, it would be his job to help Elrond begin preparing them for use and storage.

     “Are you alright?” Elrond asked quietly as Thranduil took his place and they began to work.

     Thranduil nodded, brow furrowed as he concentrated on separating a bunch of athelas from some herb he didn’t recognize. “I am,” he said just as quietly. “My father was not pleased, but not angry either,” he added. “Just concerned for my welfare.”

     “I can understand that. I would be concerned for my son too.”

     “Are you enjoying Lindon so far?”

     Elrond chuckled a little. “Oh yes, very much,” he said. “I am honored to have Gil-galad’s trust. And my new friends are enjoyable company.”

     Thranduil blushed a little. “I’m glad. I would not want you to become bored and decide to leave.”

     “You do realize that my position requires me to stay here, bored or not?” Elrond asked. “I am to be the king’s herald someday. One does not simply walk out of Lindon due to boredom in that sort of position.”

     “Do you suppose you will have any free time this evening?” Thranduil asked.

     “I might. Why?”

     “I decided to host a small party. I thought perhaps you might like to attend.”

     Elrond smiled a little. “Unfortunately I think you know my answer…”

     “If you can, depending on your duties,” Thranduil replied. Elrond had half expected him to sound sad or bitter, but he didn’t. “I understand. But I hope you can come for even a few minutes. I have the best wine at my parties, you know.”

     Elrond laughed and shook his head. “You think I would come only for the wine?”

     Thranduil’s eyes sparkled and he waved a bunch of herbs at Elrond. “I seek only to give you as much incentive as you need to make an appearance,” he said.

     “I have all the incentive I need in your presence,” Elrond replied. His own pile of herbs successfully sorted, he reached for the tools he would use to begin preparing them for storage, then paused to watch as Thranduil struggled to separate two particularly tangled bunches without damaging the delicate herbs. When Thranduil seemed to be failing in the task, Elrond reached over. “Here, let me help.”

     His hand brushed against Thranduil’s and they both looked up, starry blue eyes meeting deep gray ones in mutual looks of surprise. Elrond sucked in a sharp breath. Just as at that first party, he felt a spark when his eyes met Thranduil’s, and based on the way his friend’s cheeks burned cherry-red, he assumed Thranduil felt it too. But even that spark was nothing compared to the way his stomach plunged and his heart threated to pound its way out of his chest when their hands touched. He quickly took the herbs from Thranduil and coughed a little, staring down at the bundle and making a great show of separating the herbs before setting them back in the appropriate piles on Thranduil’s side of the table. “There now. That’s all finished. So let’s start preparing them for storage…” But even as he spoke, only one thought filled his head: _By the Valar, what was that?_

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Galion said as Thranduil returned to his room after the lesson. “They didn’t put you to work with patients, did they?”

      “N-no, nothing like that…” Thranduil replied, voice shaking as he leaned back against the door. “I just…I…I don’t know what happened…”

     Galion frowned and pressed a hand to Thranduil’s forehead. “Should I get your father?”

     “ _No_! No, I…he’s the last person I need right now,” Thranduil replied. He pushed away from the door and staggered to his bed, where he practically fell onto it and buried his face in a pillow.

     “You clearly need more advice than I could ever give you,” Galion said. He sat down beside Thranduil and reached out to rub his back a little. “At least tell me what happened?”

      “I was helping Elrond sort herbs,” Thanduil said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “And I had bunches that were quite tangled, so he took them to help me separate them. His hand touched mine…and our eyes met…it felt like something exploded inside of my, Galion.” He rolled over so he could see the other elf. “It was as though…I can’t even explain it to you, I just can’t, because I don’t even know what it was.”

     Galion frowned and bit his lip. Secretly, he thought he was right – there was more to Thranduil’s relationship with Elrond than just friendship. But he couldn’t say that right now. This wasn’t the time for him to gloat. “Maybe…if you can’t speak to your father about this, then what about Gil-galad?”

     Thranduil huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would he have time for me and my petty problems?”

     “This isn’t petty!” Galion said. “This could be important. I’m sure he would want to know if something was going on with his ally’s son. Besides, he cares about you too.”

     “I suppose you’re right…and of everyone here, he is most likely to be able to help…”

     “Then dress yourself properly and go to him,” Galion urged. “Quickly, before you lose your nerve.”

     Thanduil considered his words, then nodded and got up to change out of the clothes he had worn for the lesson. Once he was properly dressed and ornamented, he motioned for Galion to follow and slipped out of his room. He rushed down the halls, his chosen robe (a blue one today) billowing behind him. He passed a few of his more ardent admirers on the way, but even they knew better than to interfere when Thranduil had such a serious look on his face. A few did call quick greetings, but Thranduil ignored them. Before long, and well before he was ready, he found himself in front of the closed door to Gil-galad’s personal study. He hesitated, raising his hand to knock and then dropping it back to his side several times. Thranduil took a few deep breaths to steady himself, but still he couldn’t bring himself to knock. Finally, he turned to leave. “Galion, this is stupid, come on.”

     But Galion had other plans, and he darted around Thranduil to knock on the door himself. Thranduil only had time to give him a horrified look before someone inside the room opened the door for them, and Gil-galad’s voice called a firm, “Enter!”

      “That was cruel,” Thranduil hissed at his aide.

     “You’ll thank me later,” Galion whispered back, and he ushered Thranduil inside. “I’ll wait here,” he added. Whoever had opened the door from the inside – a servant or guard, he supposed – closed the door behind Thranduil, and Galion found a comfortable spot of wall to lean on while he waited.

     Thranduil looked around the study and gulped a little. It was an impressive room. Like the library, the ceilings here were high. One wall was filled with windows, affording Gil-galad a view of the paths leading to the front of the fortress and to the forest beyond. But aside from the light streaming in from the windows, there wasn’t any other light in the room, and the high shelves filled with books and other objects only made the room feel darker and more cramped. The cramped, dark feeling unnerved him, reminding him of a time when he had confined himself to dark, cramped little rooms where he only had himself and his suffering, and as he looked around he felt a sense of panic rising in his chest. It must have been visible in his face, for before he knew what was going on, Gil-galad was at his side, holding him by the shoulders and staring into his face with great concern.

     “Thranduil? My goodness, what’s the matter? You have never come to see me here before…should I send for your father?”

      The mention of his father and the feeling of strong hands on his shoulders snapped him back to reality, and he reached up to grip the older elf’s arms. “No! If I wanted to see him I would be in his chambers now instead of here!”

     Gil-galad frowned and guided Thanduil to a chair near the windows. He waved for his hidden attendants to leave. “Whatever is wrong, young one?” he asked. “What could have happened that you seek counsel, but refuse that of your own father?”

     “He…would not understand, and does not need to know. And he would not be able to help me anyway. I am quite sure he has no experience of…my problem.”

     Gil-galad’s frown deepened as he settled into his own chair beside Thranduil. “Your father loves you and only wants the best for you.”

     Thranduil waved the comment away. “My father would keep me in a cage. That is no life for anyone…please, Gil-galad, I’m begging you, don’t involve him in this. I came to seek your help but if you do not wish to give it…”

     The older elf sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, Thranduil,” he finally said. “What has you so upset?”

     They sat in silence for a few moments, Thranduil studying the dark-haired warrior as though to assess whether or not asking for his help was truly a good idea. “I…There is…an admirer of mine…whom I have come to like and believe I can trust. Perhaps we are even friends. I-I do sometimes fear that…this person only cares about my appearance, but…but most of the time I believe we can truly be friends. And that is what I want.” He picked at the fabric of his robe, then pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing around the room, becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. “I…we were working together, and our hands touched, and then our eyes met…and it felt like…I cannot even describe it, for I have never felt anything like it before. Like being struck by lightning, I suppose, or as though something snapped within me.” He turned to look at Gil-galad, the wildness and panic beginning to return to his eyes again. “I don’t even remember what happened after, just that I found myself back in my chambers trying to…make sense of it.”

     The older elf leaned back in his seat for a moment, then stood and went to take Thranduil by the shoulders once more. “Please, Thranduil, try to be calm,” he said softly as he steered his clearly upset friend back towards the chairs. “Please. If it helps calm you, I do not believe that what happened to you is bad.” Thranduil gave him a wide-eyed, confused look, and Gil-galad smiled softly. “In fact, many would be overjoyed to find themselves in your position.”

     “But _why_?” Thranduil said. His voice shook and he nearly fell into the chair, for he was finally beginning to feel unsteady on his feet. “I would not wish this feeling on my enemies.”

     “A pity for them, then,” the warrior replied, which earned him an irritated frown from his guest. “Tell me, Thranduil…this feeling. Was it bad?”

     “It frightened me greatly.”

     “That is quite clear from your reaction,” Gil-galad said, reaching out to give Thranduil’s arm a comforting squeeze. “But beyond that. Was it a bad feeling?”

     It took every ounce of power he had to force himself to concentrate and remember, letting his eyes fall closed as he thought. He hadn’t really thought about it at the time, but now, when he finally pushed past the shock and fear, he realized there had been more there. Warmth was the most obvious part. Not the kind of warmth that preceded a burn, but more the kind that was safe and comfortable and familiar. A twinge of happiness, maybe? No, not happiness…more like _joy._ Complete, unbridled joy, but only just barely there. It was no wonder he had missed it at first. And perhaps also…something else, something he had never felt before, and couldn’t describe, though it brought a blush to his cheeks as he tried to pin it down. Finally, he opened his eyes again and met Gil-galad’s gaze, then slowly shook his head.

     “No,” he whispered. “Not a bad feeling at all.”

     The king simply nodded, then held out his hand. “Give me your hand, and look into my eyes” he said. Thranduil hesitated, then complied, resting his delicate hand in Gil-galad’s larger, stronger, and far more calloused one and forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the other. They just sat there for a second, Thranduil growing more and more confused, and finally the older elf asked, “And you feel nothing right now, correct?”

     “I feel callouses,” Thranduil said.

     Gil-galad chuckled. “Well yes, but that’s not what I mean. I meant you feel nothing like what you felt before.”

      “Oh, no, of course not.”

     He nodded sagely and let go of Thranduil’s hand. “And in those instances when you have touched others like this, with nothing between you, have you ever felt anything similar?” Thranduil simply shook his head, so the king asked, “And has there been anything else between you two? Any other interesting connections?”

     Thranduil thought back to the times when their eyes had met, and the shivers it sent up his spine. “Yes,” he said. “When h—our eyes meet for the first time.”

     If Gil-galad caught the strange hitch in Thranduil’s voice, he paid it no notice. “I see,” he said, and smiled. “Then I think you are a very lucky young elf indeed, and I know many who would do anything to be in your position.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Most people spend decades or even centuries searching for the one their soul longs for. You seem to have found this person already…though of course you must now contend with the awkwardness of getting to know this person _beyond_ what your soul wants.”

     Thranduil blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing as he tried to make sense of what the other elf said. “Are you implying that despite the fact that I barely know this person, our souls are _already bound_?”

     “Quite inseparably, I would think,” Gil-galad said, nodding and tapping his chin. “Thranduil, this is nothing to fear, I assure you. And if this person truly is your soul mate, they will understand your need not to rush.”

     The younger elf titled his head a little and his eyes went unfocused as he pondered this information. He found that, for the most part, this new revelation didn’t seem to bother him. It was a little irritating, and quite intimidating to think that some aspect of his fate had been decided without his knowledge or understanding. But then…was it really so bad? And to be fair, Gil-galad hadn’t said anything about what this actually meant…

     “D-does this mean we have to…marry?” he finally asked.

     “Oh goodness no,” the other replied. “There are many kinds of soul mates, young one, though the kind we marry is usually the only kind people think of or look for. I have known a few people who found their soul mates. Many of them did eventually marry, but in a few cases the relationship was simply one of strong friendship. I knew two siblings who had determined they were each other’s soul mates, and in another case I knew of two cousins who felt bound that way.”

     “But…how do I know which it is?”

     “Unfortunately, this is something only you and this other person can figure out. But from what I understand, it’s not so difficult. Just as you know when you find this person, you also know when you find the right relationship with them. Take things slowly with your friend, and you should be fine.” He gave Thranduil’s shoulder a firm pat and added, “And if you ever need to talk about it with someone, you are always welcome to seek me out.

     Thranduil nodded slowly, and finally rose from his seat. “Thank you,” he said, “for humoring me, and helping me. And not mentioning this to my father.”

     “Of course,” Gil-galad said. His voice was warm, but held a hint of concern too, for he still couldn’t help but wonder why Thranduil was so against Oropher knowing what was happening. The younger elf lowered his eyes and gave the king a graceful bow, then turned to leave. “Oh, and Thranduil?” He waited for the blue-clad elf to pause and turn back to look at him again. “Just how much time do you spend practicing with your weapons? Your hands seemed rather…soft and smooth for a swordsman.”

     Thranduil blushed and looked down sheepishly. “You know I prefer my books,” he said.

     “I also know that if you put even half as much effort into your sword play as into your reading, you would be well-nigh unbeatable on the battlefield. And while I know things have been peaceful lately, I also know that you of all people are aware of how they can turn. There’s more to you than a pretty face, after all.”

     “…I will…keep that in mind, then,” Thranduil said, and when the other elf simply nodded and motioned to the door, he quietly took his leave.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappiness ahoy! I guess this is a nice chapter for Valentine's Day :)

     “Elrond? Is something bothering you?”

     Elrond squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before turning his head to look at Gil-galad, who was currently studying him with much concern. “No, your grace. I was merely distracted for a moment.”

     “I see. You do not look well, though. Have we been overworking you?”

     “No, of course not.”

      Gil-galad didn’t seem to believe him. “Still…I need you at your best every day, Elrond. If you need extra rest every now and again, please tell me.”

     Elrond hesitated, then said, “I…could use some time to clear my head. I have much to think about these days.”

     “Then please, go and do so,” Gil-galad said. He clapped Elrond on the shoulder. “Do what you need to do, and return to me fresh and rested tomorrow.”

     Elrond bowed and took his leave, returning to his bed in the barracks to rest and think. What had happened with Thranduil earlier…he couldn’t explain it. It hadn’t been unpleasant, certainly, but it had clearly unnerved the other elf. He had simply run from the room, obviously not aware of what he was doing, and Elrond hadn’t seen him or heard anything of him since. Not too surprising, he supposed. The castle was big and Elrond had been busy since his lesson ended. But still. Where had Thranduil hidden himself?  
      He had no idea. But he _did_ know Thranduil was having a party, and that he had been invited. Of course, knowing his luck, he was the last person Thranduil wanted to see now. But maybe, just maybe, he could go to the party for a few minutes to check on Thranduil and then leave. He considered waiting until the next day and trying to find Thranduil in the library, then thought better of it. He needed to check on his friend sooner than later, and something told him that waiting until the following day to do so would be a bad idea.

     His mind made up, Elrond used some of his unexpected free time to clean up and dress for the party, even going so far as to work some elaborate knots into the locks of his hair that framed his face. Satisfied that he looked as good as he was going to that day, he settled down to wait for nightfall, when he assumed the party would be taking place, then left the barracks to search for it. It didn’t take him long to find a group of other young elves who also seemed to be heading for a party, and he followed them until they reached a hallway in a section of the castle he had never visited before. He could hear the music and the din of voices from the party now, and made his way into the hall where the other party-goers had gathered. He paid no attention to them or to the room itself, focusing instead on finding Thranduil…but that would be no small task. The room was bursting with people, all moving and talking and just generally enjoying themselves, and all dressed far more ostentatiously than Elrond himself. Thranduil would blend right in with this crowd and be difficult to find.

     “Didn’t think you would show up,” a voice said at his shoulder.

     He turned and felt relief flood through him when he saw the speaker. “Galion! Thank goodness you’re here. Where is Thranduil?”

     Galion stood on his toes to look over the crowd, then pointed towards one of the dim back corners of the room. “Hiding back there, I think. If not there then try the other side. And hope he hasn’t gotten into the wine yet, it makes him weepy when he’s in a mood.”

     “I…would never have thought that of him,” Elrond replied, brow furrowing in concern.

     Galion studied him with the kind of look that seemed to burn into his soul, then said, “There is much about him you don’t know. I have been with him since the day I was born. His nurses essentially raised me too. It’s going to take you a lot to catch up with me.”

     Elrond just tilted his head a little. “Do you think it’s possible?”

     The younger elf pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think…it depends on you and how serious you are about getting to know _him_. Also, I think whatever happened between you two today will have some influence.”

     “Does he not wish to see me?”

     “Oh no, he wishes to see you,” Galion said, giving Elrond’s arm a reassuring pat. “Now hurry up, every minute you spend here with me is a minute for him to get further into those ridiculously fancy cups his father had made for him.”

     Elrond just shook his head a little – Oropher was incomprehensible to him – but he said a quick thanks to Galion before diving into the crowd and working his way to the back corner. Just as the aide had suspected, he found Thranduil there, but from the looks of it he hadn’t even touched any wine yet. Rather, he was busy sitting on the seat built in to one of the windows, one leg up and bent so his foot was braced against the wall and the other dangling off the side of his seat, working his way through a bowl of strawberries in cream while he watched the stars. He completely ignored the people partying around him.

     “This seems unlike you, somehow,” Elrond said.

     Thranduil turned to look at him mid-way through biting into a berry and his eyes went wide. He finished the bite of strawberry and sat up more properly so that Elrond would have room to join him on the seat if he wanted. “I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

     Elrond sat beside him, being careful not to touch Thranduil. After what had happened that afternoon, he wasn’t sure how the other would feel about any physical contact. “I wound up having the time,” he said. “And I wanted to, of course. Though…I hesitated to come. I was not certain I would still be welcome here.”

     Thranduil seemed alarmed, at first, but then his face softened and he smiled warmly, offering Elrond a berry. “You are most welcome here,” he said. “You always are.”

     “Are you all right, then?” Elrond asked as he took one of the berries. “You ran out of the infirmary so quickly.”

     “I’m fine, yes. I…had an interesting talk with Gil-galad as well,” Thranduil said. It was Elrond’s turn to look alarmed, but his companion waved his concern away. “I didn’t mention your name, I promise,” he said. “But I was so shaken, and I needed to talk to someone and it just couldn’t be my father.”

     “Your father is rather…intimidating.”

     “Indeed,” Thranduil groaned. “And it doesn’t always take much to displease him. I prefer to keep my affairs secret from him as much as possible. You will notice, for example, that he isn’t here now.”

     “Yes, I can see why you might want to keep your father out of your party,” Elrond replied dryly. Thranduil laughed a little and set his now-empty bowl down behind him. “Did your conversation with Gil-galad help?” Elrond asked him.

     Thranduil hesitated, tracing his finger over the pattern in the upholstery on their seat, then without warning he reached out and took Elrond’s hand. The dark-haired elf tensed, fully expecting a repeat of Thranduil’s panic from earlier in the day, but no such thing happened. But when that didn’t happen, he relaxed enough to realize that Thranduil’s touch had caused a warm, comforting feeling to begin in his heart and spread throughout the rest of his body – and from the smile on Thranduil’s fair face, he felt something similar. The blond elf finally looked up, eyes sparkling as he searched Elrond’s face for some emotion or sign…Elrond didn’t know what he was looking for.

     “It…did, and it didn’t,” Thranduil said. “On the one hand, I think some things are more complicated for me now. But I no longer fear what happened today.”

     “Do I get to find out what he told you?” Elrond asked.

     A bit of pink appeared on Thranduil’s pale cheeks. “Someday,” he said. “But not right now.” He looked up as a servant passed by with a tray laden with empty glasses and bottles full of deep red wine. “But for now, this is a party, and we should take advantage of that. Let’s try some of the wine.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     One of the first things Elrond noticed as he staggered through the halls of the castle the next morning was that almost every other young ellon and elleth in the place looked at least as bad as he felt. He found himself wondering how all of those people had managed to fit in the hall where Thranduil’s party had been held. And for that matter, where did Thranduil get his wine? That had been strong stuff. Elrond enjoyed good wine and usually could drink a fair amount of it without it affecting him the following morning, but that wine? That wine had left him with a pounding headache and the distinct feeling that he never wanted to drink again.

     “Now just how did you manage to secure an invitation to one of Thranduil’s legendary parties?” Gil-galad’s voice said from in front of him.

     Elrond looked up (how long had he been looking at the floor as he walked?) and squinted at the king. “How do you know I was there?” he asked.

     Gil-galad chuckled (oh, the way even that sound made Elrond’s head pound) and gently put his hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “You show all the signs of a young ellon experiencing the after-effects of one for the first time,” he said. “I’ve never been, of course, but I’ve seen enough who have. Not even Thranduil himself came out of this one unscathed.”

     “What do you mean?” Elrond asked.

     The king directed Elrond’s attention to a corner of his great hall, where for the first time Elrond noticed the blond elf sitting slumped over in a chair, rubbing his forehead. Somehow, Thranduil’s hair was as perfect as always, even if the rest of him looked a bit disheveled. “He’s been there all morning, though I have no idea why,” Gil-galad said. “Come, let’s get you something for your head. The healers asked me to send you out for more herbs today. They said Thranduil went with you last time, actually.”

      “He did,” Elrond replied. He followed Gil-galad to his study, where the king gave him some herbs and water. Elrond happily took them, and within minutes his head had stopped hurting and he could think more clearly.

     “Will you bring him this time as well?”

     Elrond considered his answer, then refilled his water and collected some of the herbal medicine. “Maybe. If he wants to, I suppose. His last lesson in healing did not end so well, so he may have lost interest. But I can ask.”

     “Good. I think it would do him some good to get out of the castle and away from his father’s demands for the day. So if he agrees, you two should leave as soon as possible. If not, I have some tasks I would like you to complete for me before you leave for the forests.”

     “Of course. I shall return soon.” Elrond nodded to the king before returning to the grand hall and making his way to Thranduil, who looked even more miserable up close. “Thranduil? Are you well?”

      Thranduil winced and kept rubbing his head, then hissed, “By the Valar, why are you _talking_?”

     Elrond shook his head a little and crouched own beside Thranduil’s chair. “Here,” he whispered, gently nudging his hand to encourage him to take the water. “Take this medicine, and drink the water. You’ll feel better.”

     Thranduil just gave him a long-suffering, skeptical look, but he did as Elrond said, and soon he too looked much better. “That wine was stronger than I’m used to.”

     “Me too,” Elrond said, and he laughed a little. “It seems you managed to put a good chunk of the young people here out of commission for the day.” He tilted his head a little. “Are you up to another herb-gathering expedition? The healers have asked for more, and the king seems to think it would be good for you to get out a little.”

     “Let me change my clothes,” Thranduil said. “I’ll meet you at the gate again.”

     Elrond nodded and stood up, then turned and made his way back to the king’s study to relay the news. Gil-galad helpfully supplied him with the list of herbs the healers most wanted, and Elrond returned to his quarters to collect the things he would need before going to meet Thranduil at the gates. They walked to the forest in a companionable silence, and once there they set to work looking for the things the healers wanted.

     “Athelas mostly, again,” Elrond said. “Also some feverfew, dandelion, and nettle.”

     Thranduil just nodded, pushed his hair behind his ear, and set to work finding what he could. “So you survived the night, I see.”

     Elrond laughed. “As did you.”

      Thranduil snorted and grinned. “Barely. Do you even remember much that happened?”

     “There was dancing and singing, and a guard yelling at us to be quiet.”

     “Ah, yes. That’s how you know it’s a proper party,” Thranduil said. He had a rather dreamy look on his face. “If the guards don’t come to tell us off, I consider it a failed party.”

     Elrond shook his head. “How is it that everyone in Lindon seems to love you, again?”

     “I think it’s mostly the perfect hair and the gorgeous eyes and the fact that I apparently remind some people of Silmarils,” Thranduil replied, then added little murmur of satisfaction when he finally acquired his first athelas bunch of the day.

     “You’re never going to let that Silmarils comment go, are you?” Elrond teased.

      “Of course not. You walked right into that one and I intend to press my advantage at every turn.”

     They travelled deeper and deeper into the forest, collecting herbs as they went, and finally stopped for lunch beside a small stream. Thranduil leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes as he ate. Elrond, for his part, sat where he could watch Thranduil.

     “I can feel you staring at me,” the blond elf said, opening his eyes just a tiny bit to look at Elrond.

     “Yes, well, you’re the most interesting thing to watch here,” Elrond countered, and Thranduil just laughed.

     “I wish I could come out here more often…” the blond elf said with a wistful sigh.

     Elrond frowned a little and moved closer, so that he was sitting beside Thranduil but not leaning on his tree. “So why do you not?”

     “My father, who else?” Thranduil rolled his eyes. “He wants to keep me safe, or so he says.”

     “There is no danger here.”

     “Not now, no,” Thranduil agreed. “But…we both remember the fighting in Doriath before we came here.”

     Elrond stared at him. “You fought in Doriath?” Thranduil hardly seemed like the kind to be battle-ready, or battle-hardened, for that matter.

      “Some…I really don’t want to talk about it though. It’s a bad memory.”

      “Of course. Would you like to spar with me sometime, though? Perhaps your father would give you more freedom if he felt more confident in your ability to protect yourself.”

      “I doubt very much that he would care about that even if I trained with Gil-galad himself every day,” Thranduil said. But he turned to Elrond and smiled anyway. “But I would never turn down the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

     “Glad to hear it,” Elrond said, and happily went back to eating his lunch.

     When they finished, they rinsed their hands in the stream. Elrond set to work collecting their things again, and when he turned to get Thranduil’s attention it was to find the other elf staring at the stream, watching the way the water bubbled and flowed around the rocks submerged in it. Leaving their packs on the ground, he went to stand beside Thranduil and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thranduil? Come on.”

     Thranduil turned to him, and their eyes met. For a long moment they just stood there in silence, Elrond’s hand on Thranduil’s shoulder, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then, without even knowing how they got there, they were in each other’s arms, clinging as though their lives depended on it.

     Elrond gasped as he felt one of Thranduil’s delicate, long-fingered hands in his hair, the elf’s other arm wrapped so tightly about his shoulders that he was quite sure it would leave a mark. Thranduil’s breath was warm and soft on his neck, and this close he could easily feel the gentle rise and fall of the other’s chest against his own. Elrond turned his face a little to press his cheek against Thranduil’s and marveled at how soft and smooth the other’s skin was, and how warm. Slowly, so as not to spook Thranduil, he reached up and began to stroke his hair. Elrond couldn’t believe how silky that golden hair was, and how easily it flowed through his fingers as he played with it, like cool water. His touch made Thanduil shiver and hug him even more tightly.

     “Thranduil?” he whispered.

     “Hmm?” the other asked, not moving an inch.

     “What brought this about?”

     Thranduil finally raised his head and looked at Elrond again, cheeks pink and breathing more heavily than before. “I…I just…I wanted to. And you did too, it seems.”

     Elrond blushed too and chuckled a little. “Indeed. I’m certainly not complaining. Just…wondering how, and why, especially considering your previous insistence that we were to just be friends. Does this have to do with that secret conversation you had with Gil-galad?”

     “I think so…does it bother you?”

     “No,” Elrond replied softly, reaching up to stroke Thranduil’s cheek. “I’m quite pleased with this turn of events.”

     Thranduil just nodded, then went back to nuzzling Elrond’s neck and hugging him tightly. They stayed like that for a long time, Elrond murmuring gentle words in Thranduil’s ear every so often, and then they finally gave in to the fact that it would not be daylight forever and they needed to return to the castle. Elrond found himself quite reluctant to let Thranduil go, but he finally did and the two rushed around to collect a few more herbs before leaving the forest.

     They had made it to the edge when Thranduil rounded on Elrond and said, “My father –“

     “I’m not going to say anything to him,” Elrond soothed. “Don’t worry.”

      Thranduil nodded in satisfaction, though the wariness was clear in his eyes. “Of course. Let us return, then.”


	7. Chapter 6

     The next several days were mostly a blur of longing for Thanduil, who found that once again Elrond’s schedule kept them apart. He tried to occupy himself with reading, practicing with his weapons, even planning another party, but nothing seemed to work well. It was incredibly frustrating, especially since he didn’t quite understand _why_ he felt the way he did. Plus, on those rare occasions when he caught a glimpse of Elrond, the brown-haired elf didn’t seem to be struggling. Perhaps he didn’t feel all that much…

     The day Gil-galad called Thranduil into his study, the young ellon was grateful for the distraction, no matter how temporary it would be. He appeared as requested at the appointed hour and presented himself to the king, who once again waved his attendants away and motioned for Thanduil to sit in an empty chair by his desk.

     “How are you fairing, my friend?” he asked once Thranduil was comfortably seated.

     “I have no complaints,” Thranduil said. “Well, none save that my…er…my soul mate’s schedule keeps…that person from me.”

     “I was afraid you might say something like that. Well, ‘afraid’ may not be the best word. Concerned for your happiness…yes, that seems better.” He opened the top drawer in his desk and withdrew a stack of notes, all tied together with a satiny green ribbon. “These are for you,” he said, leaning across the desk to offer them to Thranduil.

    Though confused, Thranduil reached out to take the bundle and set it in his lap. “Thank you. But what is this?”

     Gil-galad folded his hands on his desk. “I took the liberty of writing to my friends on your behalf,” he said. The color drained from Thranduil’s face, and he added, “I didn’t tell them who you are. None of them know your father anyway. But I thought you could use some advice that I am truly in no position to give you, and my friends delivered quite handsomely. Within those letters you should find the information necessary to help you determine the nature of this soul mate bond you have.”

     “I…this is so much more than you had to do for me…why?” Thranduil asked, looking at the king with genuine curiosity.

     He smiled and let out a satisfied little “hmph” of amusement. “It’s not my place, really, but I think your father gives you far too little credit and I would see you have your own life. Besides, I have no children of my own to dote upon, so I have decided to borrow you.”

     Thranduil laughed. “Truly, this is wonderful and I cannot thank you or your friends enough.”

     The king simply fixed him with a piercing, soul-searching stare and leaned as close to Thranduil as his desk would allow. “Become the fine leader I know you will be someday, Thranduil, and don’t throw away the unique gift you have been given in being granted the blessing of finding this person who can be so special to you, if you take the chance. That is all the thanks I could ever need.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil waited until he was in the safety of his private chambers to read his letters. Galion promised to keep watch to make sure there would be no surprise visits from Oropher, but otherwise he stayed away and let Thranduil read in peace. And so the young elf settled into a seat by a window, where he could soak up some sun and get fresh air from the part of the window that he left open, and began to read.

     The first letter was from Gil-galad’s friend who had determined that her sister was her soul mate. A touching story, certainly, and Thranduil felt happy for them when he finished. Having never had a sibling he could only imagine how nice it would be to have one, let alone one so close as what the writer described. But that wasn’t his situation. The next letter, as well as the one after, were from those whose soul mates were close friends. Thranduil liked reading those too, but felt that the relationships described were much closer to what he shared with Galion than to what he felt for Elrond. He actually started wondering if such a bond could be found between one person and multiple other people, or if it could be created by being close with someone from a young age, and if such a thing had happened with Galion.

     Then, he came to the first letter from one of the ones who had married their soul mate. And as he read, he began to shake in giddiness.

 

     _I must say, friend, I never gave much thought to what I felt for Míreth when we first came together. In fact, having never had such attention from anyone else before, and having never been interested in giving such attention to anyone else before, I thought we were experiencing exactly what everyone experiences and wondered why those around us seemed to feel we were moving too quickly. It made no sense to me. I had found my other half, the piece of me that had been missing for as long as I could remember, how could we possibly move too quickly? But the more I observed other blossoming relationships between my friends and their loves, the more I realized that Míreth and I were indeed a unique case. Mind you, friend, we had never heard of the soul mate concept before, and none around us had either, so the issue never came up._

_As for what it felt like…when we first met, I remember that I felt like someone was watching me, and that such a feeling was odd for the situation. When our eyes met, I knew immediately she had been the one whose gaze I had felt. That brief contact excited me and made me curious, and felt like a current of energy shooting through my body. We touched for the first time only a few days later, and that was even more shocking for me. You say the one on whose behalf you ask this question was terribly frightened by the experience...that sounds about right to us. Both Míreth and I felt the same. But the fear was not about the other person being wrong, or rejecting us, it was purely about the intensity of emotions we felt in that moment._

_I remember that, as time went on, my feelings grew stronger and more sure, and before long I knew there was no way I could go on without her. I longed for her presence and her touch – and this was well before the idea of being intimate with her even occurred to me! I just wanted to be with her and nothing else would do. Of course, eventually my need to be with her every moment of the day relaxed, because I understood that she wanted the same thing, and that, like me, she had no interest in others. There was no possibility of us losing each other to waning feelings, and once I realized that, I could finally enjoy being in love…and so could she._

 

     The remaining letters said very similar things, and by the time he finished the pile, Thranduil was quite sure he understood what was going on. Now he just had to find some way to tell Elrond. Having read what the others said about the intensity of their feelings and their concerns when they didn’t understand what was happening, he knew it would be cruel to keep what he had learned from his conversation with Gil-galad a secret. This was definitely something to do in person. He re-folded his letters and tied the bundle back together, carefully hid them away deep inside the desk in his room, then retrieved some parchment to write Elrond a letter.

      “Galion?” he called as he finished the letter.

     “Here,” his aide said, appearing the doorway.

     Thranduil made sure the ink was dry, then folded his letter carefully and handed it to Galion. “Make sure that gets to Elrond before dinnertime, please.”

     “Of course,” Galion said, and he disappeared to do his newest task.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Elrond pulled the letter out of his tunic and checked it one more time to make sure he had gotten the time and location right. In most cases, he wouldn’t have felt like he had the time for a late-night, clandestine meeting like this. But Thranduil’s letter had been filled with such urgency, he simply had no idea how to refuse the invitation.

     Besides, he had the sense that Thranduil had been feeling the same deep longing that he himself had been feeling ever since their last trip to the forest. And if that was true, then that meant his friend (or was he more than that now?) was also suffering terribly. Elrond didn’t want that. He sighed a little and decided to pass the time by re-reading the letter.

 

_Elrond,_

_You should know that the past few days have been difficult, to say the least. I miss seeing you and had hoped you would have some time to seek me out in the library, but alas, my hopes have been dashed at every turn. I hardly blame you. You must attend to your duties and to be honest, I would be sorely disappointed in you if you failed to do so. But still…the hope is there._

_In any event, I have something that I must discuss with you, and I think it would be best to discuss it in person rather than through letters. Tonight, once the first stars have appeared, I will be waiting for you by the large willow in the east garden. And if you cannot come this night, then every night following I will wait there for you until you do finally come to me. But please…do not keep me waiting for too long. The things I need to discuss with you are quite sensitive, and will have a strong influence on your life here, I believe. So please…come see me, Elrond. Please._

_Yours,_

_Thranduil_

 

     He looked around once more. He was definitely in the east garden, and there was only one willow there. It stood beside a small pond covered in lily pads with gorgeous pink and yellow flowers, and some of the willow’s branches dangled into the pond itself. Someone had placed a bench beneath the branches, right up against the trunk, and Elrond noted that anyone sitting on the bench would be almost completely hidden from prying eyes, especially in the dark of night. It seemed like the perfect spot for a secret, life-changing conversation, but Thranduil wasn’t there yet, and Elrond couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow found the wrong spot.

     Elrond was just about to go see if there was some other large willow tree that Thranduil could have been referring to when the blond elf appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. And when he did, Elrond couldn’t help but gasp. He was a vision in long robes of silver and gray, a circlet of silver studded with tiny light-blue gems resting on his head. The moment he saw Elrond, he burst into a brilliant smile and ran the last few steps of the way. Elrond wasn’t even conscious of doing the same, but knew he must have, for mere moments later they were in each other’s arms again and he could bury his nose in Thanduil’s soft hair. He took a deep breath and let out a tiny sigh of contentment. Thranduil smelled of clean, cold water and just a hint of something sweet – roses, he thought, but the smell was so faint he couldn’t truly tell.

     “How I have missed you,” Thranduil whispered against his ear.

     “And I you,” Elrond replied. He finally forced himself to let go of the other and took his hands, pulling him to the bench in the willow’s shadow, and urging him to sit down. “But you have me so worried now. What is this thing you have to tell me?”

     Thranduil looked down at their hands and played with Elrond’s fingers a little. “I…I might not explain it well. And I have to admit that I fear your reaction. Though… from what I understand, I shouldn’t.”

     Elrond frowned and squeezed his hands. “Then tell me. Get it over with. You’ll feel better and we can go back to hugging.”

     Thranduil’s head jerked up and he stared at Elrond, mouth open in surprise which quickly turned to a happy little laugh. “All right, then. Are you familiar with the concept of soul mates, Elrond?”

     “People who are meant to be together, of course.” Elrond nodded. “It’s quite rare for anyone to meet theirs, though. Some believe that not everyone has one. Why do you…” he trailed off as he experienced a sudden burst of understanding, and turned his face away so he wasn’t looking right at Thranduil as he thought. The shivers and explosive feelings when their eyes met, or when they touched…the way Thranduil had acted so strangely, going from preemptively refusing Elrond’s advances to practically making his own in only a few short weeks…the desperate ache he had felt every time he thought of Thranduil since their last meeting (and he had been thinking of Thranduil quite a bit)… “Of course,” he whispered. “Why didn’t I see it?”

     “You think…you think this explains our feelings as well?” Thranduil asked eagerly.

     Elrond nodded slowly and turned back to look at the other. “I do. It certainly makes sense. How did you figure it out? Is that what you asked Gil-galad about?”

     “It was his idea, actually,” Thranduil said. “So…are you…do you…what now?”

     They just sat there for a few minutes, clutching each other’s hands. Finally, Elrond dropped one of Thranduil’s hands and reached up to push a few stray strands of hair from his face. “Now, we must be cautious. I have no idea how any here would react to us being together, do you?” Thranduil shook his head, and Elrond sighed a little. “Your father strikes me as the type to be unhappy. And despite our connection, I do fear what could happen if we rush…but oh, yes, I don’t know about you, but I am quite pleased.”

     Thranduil beamed. “As am I. Don’t worry…I know all the good places to hide in and around the castle. All we need is for you to have more free time.”

      “I have free time now…” Elrond said, and when Thranduil answered him with a warm smile, he simply pulled the other elf into his arms once more.


	8. Chapter 7

     “Have you given any thought to the winter feast?”

     Thranduil stopped stirring his porridge long enough to look up at his father, who was currently watching him with a small smile on his face and his chin propped up in his hand. “Um. Seeing as the fall feast hasn’t even happened yet…no,” Thranduil said.

     “But it’s the one of the biggest feasts of the year! And the best time to catch the eye of some lucky elleth,” Oropher said.

     Thranduil fought back a sigh and gave up on his porridge in favor of spreading jam on his toast. So they were going to have _that_ conversation again, were they? “Adar, I already know all of the ellith living here, and none of them have caught my fancy,” he said.

     “New ones arrive every so often,” his father said. “And I hear some might be visiting this year. Guests of the court, you see.”

     “I don’t understand why you keep pushing the issue, I’m still young…”

     “And you still need an heir.”

     Thranduil did sigh this time. “What if I don’t _want_ an heir?” he asked.

     Oropher’s warm expression turned stern. “You are my son and heir and someday, when we have lands of our own, you will need someone to take over for you once we are both gone. This is not optional, Thranduil.”

     “But if I just decide to stay here for good –“

     “We are immortal, Thranduil, but not completely immune to death,” Oropher said. The irritation in his voice was clear. They had been down this road many times, and was growing tired of what he saw as Thranduil’s stubbornness. His patience was running thin. “You should be particularly aware of that, seeing as Gil-galad and I had to carry your nearly-dead body from the battlefield once already.”

     Thranduil winced and quickly tried to think of other things, happier things. He didn’t need to have another flashback and panic attack in front of his father. That rarely ended well. “I still think it shouldn’t be rushed or pushed, or done just because you feel I need to,” he finally said. “If I am to have a child I want to love its mother and I want her to love me.”

     “Having an heir is more important,” Oropher said, all traces of patience gone from his voice. “You do not need love to reproduce, Thranduil, you must only plant your seed in the proper receptacle and wait for the result.”

     Thranduil’s face went scarlet at his father’s words. He knew, vaguely, that his father was speaking of the intimate act shared between spouses (or lovers, if the rumors were true), but Oropher had never bothered to actually _explain_ it to him before. He assumed it must be something very private indeed for Oropher to be so secretive about the details, even if he was willing to be blunt with the basics. “I…I don’t think that’s enough for me, Adar,” he finally said.

     “It may have to be,” Oropher replied. He watched Thranduil for a moment, then reached out and tucked a finger under his son’s chin to raise his face a bit. “Come now, cheer up. The autumn feast will be upon us in days and soon after will be the winter feast. I have a present for you.” He motioned for one of the servants to approach, and she did, gently laying a wooden box in front of Thranduil before stepping back to her place by the wall.

     Thranduil’s eyes searched his father’s face for a hint, but seeing none, he turned his attention back to the box and opened it. Inside, on a bed of silver-blue velvet, lay a circlet. Thranduil lifted it from the box with great care and examined it, utterly dazzled by the beauty. “Is this…mithril?” he asked, running a finger over the smooth lines of it.

     “Indeed,” Oropher replied, clearly pleased with his son’s reaction. “Decorated with only the finest pearls and diamonds.”

     Thranduil turned his new circlet this way and that, admiring the way the light caught on the gems and the metal. The circlet with wide, but delicate, made entirely of thin bands woven in an open pattern, with the most complex and gem-heavy potion of the design at the back and a single teardrop-shaped diamond dangling down from the small point that marked the center at the front. The pearls and gems seemed to be scattered at random around the circlet. They reminded Thranduil of gently-falling snowflakes in the midst of winter.

     “Isn’t it wrong for a mere lord’s child to wear something finer than anything the king has?” Thranduil asked, though his eyes still sparkled as he studied his new jewelry.

     Oropher laughed. “When Gil-galad asks me to stop covering you in gems and precious metals, I might consider it. But hopefully by then I will have secured my kingship of the Greenwood and we won’t have to concern ourselves with such matters anymore.”

     Thranduil tucked his circlet back in its box and leaned over to hug Oropher. “Thank you, Adar,” he said.

     “Not going to try it on?”

     “No…I want it to be a surprise for the winter feast, even to us.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The autumn feast came and went quite uneventfully. Elrond had been told that, as a new member of the guard (regardless of his actual rank), he would be expected to volunteer for guard duty at some of the feasts and would be allowed to participate as a guest in others. Gil-galad himself suggested that Elrond do whatever he needed to avoid working during the winter feast. “It is, after all, the largest seasonal feast of the year after the midsummer feast,” he said, “and I think you should enjoy your first one with us.” So Elrond had carefully arranged it so he could be a simple guest at that feast. Which meant being a guard at the autumn one.

     In some ways, he regretted his choice. His relationship with Thranduil was still new, and a part of him wished he could have been at the celebration with the young noble. From his position in the hall he could see Thranduil talking and laughing with the other nobles and their children, and sometimes felt a twinge of jealousy that they got to spend such a happy evening with Thranduil while he was stuck being a guard (against _what,_ exactly?) and watching everyone have a good time. But then he remembered that, in a few short months, he _would_ be enjoying himself with everyone else, including Thranduil.

     Then, about half-way through the feast, he realized that he had the second-best vantage point in the whole room for watching the festive dancing. Only Gil-galad’s throne would provide a better view of the goings-on that night. And so Elrond contented himself with watching Thranduil dance. And what a beautiful sight it was…Thranduil, dressed in autumnal reds and yellows, wearing a circlet of gold instead of his usual silver, proved to be a skilled dancer and _everyone_ wanted a turn. He was pleased to note that Oropher didn’t object even when other ellyn asked Thranduil to dance. And Thranduil himself was incredibly graceful, and seemed to know every dance in the court’s repertoire.

     And of course, when he wasn’t busy, he would steal glances at Elrond.

     That night, as soon as he returned to his barracks, Elrond wrote Thranduil a letter. He had to keep it until the morning, but when he awoke he immediately sought out Galion to take the letter to Thranduil before going about his day.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil flopped back on his bed and just laughed, holding Elrond’s letter against his chest with both hands. Galion, for his part, wandered in from Thranduil’s sitting room and stood against the nearest wall, arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised as he watched the other elf. “Are you feeling well?” he finally asked.    

     “I’m _wonderful_ , Galion,” Thranduil replied, lifting the letter to look at it again and then laughing more as he held it to his chest again.

     “Yes, but I’m not convinced you’re _well_ ,” Galion said. “I’ve never seen you react to a letter like that.”

     “Well, I’ve never had one make me this happy before!”

     Galion blinked a bit, then grinned. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, then, carry on, don’t let me interrupt you.”

     Thranduil just waved him away and sat up to read his letter again.

 

_My dearest Thranduil,_

_I hope you don’t mind my addressing you thus, but it is how I feel now. It seems right. Let me know if you disagree._

_At first I must admit that I regretted my choice to accept guard duty during the autumn feast. You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much, and all evening my mind could focus on nothing but how wonderful it would have been to be in the thick of it all with you, rather than merely watching from the walls as a guard must. But then I realized what a wonderful gift I had been given, for it meant I could watch you all evening. I know you know this, but you are gorgeous. Had I the power to do so I would declare you the Jewel of Lindon, as that is what you truly are. I especially enjoyed watching you dance, and even now I find myself looking forward to the winter feast, when I can have my own turn as your partner. I only hope I don’t embarrass you, for I fear I am not so graceful or skilled as you in dancing._

_It did my heart so much good to see you so happy. I know you sometimes struggle with happiness here, that you feel trapped by your father’s wishes for you. From what I saw last night, he seems to truly love you. I think he believes he has your best interests in heart and nothing more. But regardless, you should know that you always have my support. I want only to see you happy and safe. Would that you could always be in my arms as well, for I know that I find much joy of my own with you, and I hope you feel the same in my presence._

_I fear that it will be some time until we see each other again, for Gil-galad has asked me to accompany him on a brief visit to his friend Círdan in Mithlond. He has assured me that we shall return in time for the winter feast, though, and I intend to fully make it up to you then. In the meantime, please be safe, and content, and know that you are always in my thoughts._

_Yours,_

_Elrond_

     “Galion!” he called. “I’m going to write back to him! Make sure he gets the letter before he leaves…and tell him not to read it until he really misses me!”


	9. Chapter 8

    The weeks had been hard on Elrond, for even with that letter from Thranduil to read when he felt particularly lonely, it just wasn’t the same. His arms ached to be filled, and his heart ached to be near Thranduil again. At times, Elrond worried that he was feeling more infatuation than love, but the few times he tried to discuss the issue with Gil-galad without revealing too many details, he came away feeling that he was concerned for nothing.

     For his part, Gil-galad was true to his word, and they returned to the castle just in time for the winter feast. He rewarded Elrond for his hard work with another small promotion and the gift of a lovely gray robe, made of a material that seemed to glow softly in the lighting typical of the great hall. He also presented Elrond with a simple but elegant ring of silver, wrought to look like woven vines, with many of the leaves represented by small emeralds. The ring came with a note: _Something to keep for yourself if you will, or to present to whomever it is that has you so entranced._ There was no doubt in Elrond’s mind – that ring would be going to Thranduil.

     The day of the feast, he took care to dress as well as he could. Círdan had gifted him with a silver circlet  made of five strands braided together, which he chose to wear along with the grey robe, which went over a green tunic, leggings of an even deeper green, and his best black boots. He considered simply carrying the ring in a pocket, then decided to wear it. And then, satisfied that he looked as good as he possibly could, he made his way to the great hall.

     The feast was already in full swing by the time he arrived, with dozens of elves dancing to the music being played while others partook of the food and the freely-flowing wine. Elrond made sure to pay his respects to Gil-galad before accepting a goblet full of wine from a passing servant, and then went in search of Thranduil. He spotted Galion, flirting with one of the elleth servants in a corner, and so he assumed Thranduil must be around too. But when his search proved fruitless, he finally approached Galion. The servant he had been wooing left just before Elrond arrived.

     “Enjoying yourself?” he asked the young aide.

     “Quite!” Galion replied gleefully. “Don’t worry, I’ll see her after the feast ends,” he added, nodding in the direction of the servant. “And as for _your_ presumed post-feast meeting, well, he isn’t here yet.”

     “I’m surprised,” Elrond said. “I would have thought he would be among the first here.”

     “For any other feast, yes,” Galion said. “But for the second biggest of the year, with guests from elsewhere? Oh no, Oropher is going to make sure his son makes an entrance.” He hesitated, then added, “He’s trying to get Thranduil married off, you know.”

     Elrond sighed. “I didn’t know for certain, but it doesn’t surprise me. He seems like the kind for whom such things are terribly important.”

     “Oh yes, he is. He’s been badgering Thranduil to settle down with some nice elleth for _years_. You have your work cut out for you if you want to claim him as your own.”

     Elrond was still formulating a reply when a commotion by the door caught his attention. “What is that?”

     “Probably Thranduil and Oropher,” Galion said, grinning. “Go on, go see. I’ll hold your wine for you if you want.”

     “And drink it for me too, most likely,” Elrond said dryly, but he handed the glass over anyway and rushed over to see.

     Sure enough, Galion knew Oropher, Thranduil, and the court well. Elrond barely managed to get a good spot from which to observe what was going on, and just as he did, two figures entered. An appreciative murmur spread through the crowd as the figures worked their way up the hall. For his part, Elrond let out a sharp gasp, and it took all of his willpower to keep from tackling Thranduil right then and there.

     Oropher was an impressive elf all on his own – taller than most of those gathered, with golden hair so long that he could almost sit on it. Tonight, much of it had been elaborately braided at the sides and back, though the rest hung loose and swayed a little as he walked. His clothes were simple – robes of an elegant deep green, with little ornamentation, and he wore no jewels beyond a silver ring set with the largest emerald Elrond had ever seen in a ring. But it was quickly obvious that nobody was really watching the rather aloof Lord. Rather, all eyes were on the younger elf following him.

     Thanduil held his head high, a vaguely haughty smile on his lips. His robes were dark, like his father’s, but instead of green, they were the dark blue of the night sky and liberally sprinkled with clear gems and silver embroidery meant to imitate stars. The robe was closed over his torso, and rather form-fitting, but the floor-brushing skirt of it was open in the front and as he walked any observers could catch a glimpse of his long legs, clad in dark leggings and boots. As usual for him, his hair was down and brushed to perfect smoothness, with no braids to distract from it. He wore no jewelry, except for his incredible circlet of gems and pearls, and –

     “Is that _mithril_?”  a noble behind Elrond murmured. “Valar, I think it is…” the elf continued, answering his own question.

     “It certainly suits him, doesn’t it?” a young elleth beside Elrond said, following her statement with a soft sigh of longing.

     Thranduil’s eyes scanned the crowed, and when they fell on Elrond a bit of pink appeared in his cheeks. He held Elrond’s gaze for as long as he dared, then let his eyes move on. Elrond watched him continue up the hall for a moment, then turned and went back to Galion, who (miraculously) had not finished the wine.

     “Saw him, eh?” the aide asked quietly, giving Elrond a cheeky smile.

      “Oh yes,” Elrond replied. He snatched his wine back and gulped down half of it in one go.

     Galion laughed a little. “You don’t need wine, you need a cold bath,” he said.

      “Be that as it may, the wine will have to do.” Elrond turned to the front of the hall, where he could now see Thranduil and Oropher ascending the steps before Gil-galad’s throne to greet him. Thranduil’s graceful bow caused the room to explode in applause. “I’m not sure how I feel about all of this…” Elrond muttered. “All he did was bow.”

     Galion tapped his arm, and when Elrond looked back at him, he was greeted with the most serious expression he had ever seen on the younger elf. “You better get used to it if you want to be with him,” Galion said solemnly. “Because you’re going to be contending with this for a really long time.”

     “Right…I need to eat something.”

     “Yes, better eat well,” Galion said, his cheeky grin back in place. “You’ll want all that energy for dancing.”

     Elrond went off to have something to eat and wound up chatting with some of the other off-duty guards while he did, then spent a long while just listening to the music and trying to watch Thranduil without being obvious about it. To keep up appearances, he accepted a few dances from those who asked him for one. And then, he decided that he had had quite enough of eating food and dancing with others, and as the musicians paused to choose another song, he worked his way through the crowd towards Thranduil.

    The blond elf was surrounded by his usual crowd of admirers, and for a moment Elrond regretted choosing to stop after one glass of wine. He could have used a bit more liquid courage to help him face Thranduil in front of that crowd…especially given how gorgeously otherworldly he was looking this evening. But then his salvation came in the form of music – a song he recognized from the autumn feast, and had often heard in his dreams of dancing with Thranduil ever since. It was a slower dance and somewhat intimate, and watching Thranduil dance to it at the last feast had been both painful and inspiring for him. So as the music began and other elves began to pair off, he took a deep breath and approached Thranduil, reaching out to gently tap his shoulder to get his attention.

     Thranduil turned to him and positively beamed, and for a moment Elrond was frightened that his efforts at being subtle would all be for naught. It definitely didn’t help when Thranduil said, “Good evening, Elrond. Are you enjoying yourself?”

     “I am,” Elrond replied. “Though I was hoping you would be kind enough to honor me with a dance.”

      Thranduil’s cheeks went pink and he nodded, holding his hand out to Elrond. “The honor would be mine.”

     The two took to the dance floor, and for the duration of the dance, Elrond felt lost in his own little world. His eyes never left Thranduil’s except when the dance steps forced them apart, and even then he kept his gaze fixed on the other elf as much as possible. And when the steps brought them closer together – close enough to hear Thranduil’s quiet breathing or to smell the faint scent of pine clinging to him tonight – Elrond could feel his heart beat just that much faster. He desperately wanted to take Thranduil in his arms, but this wasn’t that sort of dance, and to do so would have been both obvious and inappropriate. So he settled for simply squeezing the other elf’s fingers each time their hands touched, and for letting his hand linger just a little longer on Thranduil’s back during the steps that required such contact.

     And then, long before he was ready for it, the dance was finished. He and Thranduil bowed to each other and joined the other pairs in leaving the dance floor. Elrond couldn’t help but feel that the applause from the observers was far more enthusiastic after this dance than it had been after the others. It was all because of Thranduil, he was sure of it.

     “Thank you,” he whispered softly, leaning in just a bit so only Thranduil would hear.

     The blond elf smiled at him and whispered back, “Meet me out in the garden soon.” And then he disappeared into the crowd. Elrond bit his lip as he watched Thranduil go, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to just run into the garden right then and there. He was so distracted by his thoughts of joining Thranduil that he almost didn’t notice when Oropher appeared at his side.

     “You honored my son with your dance, young one,” the older elf said. His words were kind, but the coolness in his voice was impossible to miss.

     Elrond had to tilt his head back a little to look Oropher in the eye, and found that reading his expression was difficult. “Your son honored me, my lord,” he finally said. “You must be very proud of him.”

     Oropher sighed a little. “Proud, yes, but I do wish he would find a partner, preferably before he returns to the Greenwood with me. I cannot fathom why it appears to be so difficult for him to do so.”

     _Because the one he wants for himself and the one you want for him are two very different people_ , Elrond thought, but he bit his tongue until the urge to say so passed. “I think it must be difficult for him. He has to decide who truly cares about _him_ and who just wants a pretty partner on their arm.”

     “Ah. You believe in the idea of love matches, then?” Oropher asked. Though Elrond noted that the lord didn’t sound angry, he did catch a hint of exasperation in his voice.

     “I do, my lord,” Elrond replied. “My memories of my parents are dim, but I do seem to recall that they loved one another dearly and this has left both my brother and I with happy memories of our time with them.”

     “Perhaps,” Oropher said diplomatically. “But sometimes such things are…a luxury.”

     “Perhaps,” Elrond agreed, which earned him a surprised look from the other elf. “But if it is a luxury, I do believe it is the most necessary luxury I know of.”

     Oropher eyed him for a moment, then laughed a little, and Elrond was surprised to note how similar his laugh was to Thranduil’s. “You are going to be a great herald to the king someday,” Oropher finally said. “And perhaps more than that as well, in the future. If you’ll excuse me.”

     Elrond simply nodded as the older elf left him, then turned and made his way out to the garden. He hadn’t expected to be delayed by a conversation with someone, and hoped that Thranduil was still waiting for him.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil kept leaning out from behind his chosen tree to look for Elrond, and whenever he noticed that Elrond wasn’t coming, he chewed more on his lip. Had Elrond not heard him properly? Had he been held up somehow? Had he decided not to come? That last thought especially unnerved him. Perhaps in their weeks apart, Elrond’s affections had grown cool. Thranduil knew how _he_ still felt, of course, but with no way to contact Elrond for all the time he had been gone, he didn’t know what had happened to him…then again, there _was_ that dance. Thranduil was sure that it had been as romantic for Elrond as it had been for him.

     He looked up at the sound of footsteps in the snow, and his heart nearly burst from the joy of seeing Elrond finally appear. The dark-haired elf had stopped to look around, trying to decide which fork in the path he should take. Thranduil just watched him for a moment – goodness, but he just grew more and more gorgeous in Thranduil’s eyes – then reached out a hand and softly called his name. Elrond’s head turned, and when he saw Thranduil his face broke into a relieved smile. Thranduil turned away and dashed off down the path, trusting Elrond to follow, until they reached a more secluded spot where the only light came from the stars, the full moon, and the reflection of them on the freshly-fallen snow.

     Thranduil finally stopped and turned, and had barely managed to face Elrond when he was finally enveloped in the other’s strong arms, resting his head gently on Elrond’s shoulder and clutching a handful of his robe in the back as they held each other. He felt a hand on the back of his head, coming to rest just below his circlet, and felt Elrond’s other arm tighten around his waist. But the initial embrace didn’t last long, for it seemed that Elrond wanted to look at him and they both wanted to talk.

     Elrond’s hands shifted to gently cup Thranduil’s face, and Thranduil smiled warmly at him. “How I missed you,” he whispered softly.

     “And I you,” Elrond replied, stroking Thranduil’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Your letter was a comfort, but it was you I wanted the whole time. And look at you now…you look like you are not of this world.”

     Thranduil’s cheeks turned pink and he wrapped his arms around Elrond’s body once more. “You are the only person who can say such things to me and have me believe that you care about more than my looks.”

     “I will always admire your beauty, Thranduil. All of it,” Elrond said. Thranduil just tilted his head in confusion, so Elrond added, “Your body is beautiful, but so are your soul and your heart.” He gently rested on hand on Thranduil’s chest, just over his heart. “I don’t know everything you have been through, only that you have been through much already, and I marvel at you. I marvel that even through those things, and while fighting against your father’s cage, you can still be as wonderful as I know you to be.”

     The blond elf pulled away from Elrond just enough to take both of his hands and hold them tightly in his own, casting his gaze downward as he did. “Elrond, I…I don’t even know what to say…”

     “Then say nothing,” Elrond whispered, leaning ever closer to Thranduil as he spoke. “Nothing, except to tell me whether or not I may finally kiss you.”

     Thranduil’s eyes shot back up and he stared at Elrond, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in surprise. But as Elrond’s words sank in, and he realized that he had truly been asked to grant the other elf a kiss, he smiled and squeezed Elrond’s hands in his own. “Of course you may…” And Thranduil too leaned in, closing his eyes in anticipation.

     In later years, Thranduil would barely remember that it took them two tries to get it right, because the first try ended with them awkwardly bumping noses and dissolving into embarrassed giggles. But then they tried again, and this time their lips came together in a barely-there touch. Thranduil smiled at the touch and felt Elrond do the same, and then he dropped Elrond’s hands and wrapped his arms tightly around the other instead, one hand finding its way up to tangle in Elrond’s dark hair and the other keeping their bodies pressed close together. He reveled in the feeling of Elrond’s arms around him, Elrond’s heart beating nearly in time with his, and the feeling of a soft and gentle kiss as Elrond captured his mouth once more. He gasped a little, and felt his partner’s kisses grow more demanding, almost desperate. But Thranduil had no idea what to do, and rather suddenly pulled away, giving Elrond a bewildered look as he did.

     At first, Elrond seemed confused, then concerned. “Have you…was that…has there been…”

     “Nobody but you,” Thranduil whispered. “You are my first.”

     For a moment, Elrond said nothing, and Thranduil feared he had driven Elrond away with his lack of experience. And then Elrond’s face burst into the most brilliant smile Thranduil had yet seen from him. “And you are mine,” Elrond said. “And glad I am of it, Thranduil.”

     Thranduil hugged Elrond again and nearly cried from the joy that filled his heart. “Elrond…I…you are so special to me…don’t ever forget that.”

     Elrond stroked his hair a little, eyes closed so he could focus on the feeling of Thranduil in his arms, and then he let Thranduil go completely. The blond elf looked confused again, but Elrond gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then slipped the silver and emerald ring from his finger and held it up to Thranduil. “I want you to have this,” he said. “So you can always have something of me with you.”

     Thranduil took it and stared at it in awe for several moments, turning it this way and that so that it sparkled even in the dim light of the garden. He then offered his hand to Elrond, who chuckled and slipped the ring onto his ring finger. “Thank you,” Thranduil breathed, admiring the ring as well as the way Elrond’s hands held his. “Nothing will ever be a more precious treasure to me.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil finally escaped the gaggle of would-be companions and slipped into his chambers, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment and looked around for some sign of Galion, finally spying the closed door separating his aide’s room from the sitting room in his well-appointed chambers. A silk scarf of deepest red hung on the door, and Thranduil heard giggling from behind it, both clear indications that he shouldn’t disturb Galion. Oh, but how he wanted to share the story of his evening with someone! But it would have to wait until Galion’s guest left. He shook his head a little as he tried to figure out what, precisely, Galion did with all the people he brought back to his room from time to time, then wandered into his own bedroom to get out of his party clothes and spend the night staring at his new ring.

     He had barely even gotten his boots off when he heard the distinctive sounds of Galion seeing someone off, then heard the soft rap at his door that indicated Galion wanted to come in. “Yes?” he called softly, and moments later Galion was indeed at his side, grinning as though he had just lived through the best night of his life.

     “You look happy,” Thranduil said.

     “You should see yourself,” Galion countered. Indeed, Thranduil had returned to the party with a gorgeous, bright smile plastered to his face, and all this time later it still hadn’t faded. “Sooooooo, anything interesting to tell me?” Galion asked.

    Thranduil blushed a little and showed him the ring. “Well, he gave me this.”

     Galion whistled. “A generous gift. I had no idea Elrond had access to such things.”

     “It seems that he does,” Thranduil said. “And…Galion, do you remember your first kiss?”

     “Oh sure, that’s not something you forget you know,” Galion said. “She was pretty, but not really to my liking. I only did it because –“ He stopped suddenly and gaped at Thranduil. “ _No_ ,” he said. “Did he…” Thranduil’s raised his hands and pressed his fingertips to his lips, then nodded. Galion laughed triumphantly and clapped Thranduil on the shoulder. “Well it’s about time, I say. So was it good? Did he know what he was doing at least?”

     Thranduil shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. “Oh, how am I supposed to know, I’ve never kissed anyone before now! I liked it anyway, so I suppose it was good…I doubt he knew any more than me, though. He said…he said I was his first too.”

     Galion gasped a little and smiled warmly at Thranduil. “You’re so lucky,” he said. “You really are. I just…Valar, I’m so happy for you.” He hugged Thranduil tightly around the shoulders. “Look, you know I’m more…ah…experienced than you are, so if you need to talk about things…”

     “I know just where to find you.” Thranduil nodded. “Thank you, my friend.”


	10. Chapter 9

     The weeks flew by, and suddenly Elrond found himself promoted to a position that finally allowed him to join Gil-galad’s council. And not a moment too soon, either, as far as he was concerned. There had been dark rumors from beyond Lindon’s borders, and what little Elrond had managed to hear had him worried. He looked forward to the chance to learn more about what was really going on.

     When he entered the council chambers for the first time, he was in for a surprise. He let his eyes scan the crowd as he crossed the room to his assigned seat, quickly identifying the familiar faces and trying to memorize the unfamiliar ones for further investigation later, and then he saw the familiar blond head already seated at the council table. He didn’t bother fighting down the smile that the sight of Thranduil brought to his face, and turned his attention to finding his seat. Much to his delight (and slight concern – how would he ever be able to concentrate?) he had been seated almost directly across from his sweetheart. As he settled into his seat, his eyes caught Thranduil’s and the noble elf favored him with a small, sweet smile before returning his attention to the older elf trying to have a very serious conversation with him. Elrond felt his heart soar, and when he noticed that Thranduil was still wearing his ring it brought a slight flush to his cheeks, but he had no time to dwell on it, for at that moment Gil-galad made his appearance and the council began.

     “Our task for today’s council is determining our readiness to fight in the event that Sauron should rise again,” Gil-galad said.

     “With all due respect,” one of the council members said, “continuing to focus on the threat of a being we have previously vanquished is pointless.”

     “I have to agree,” another one said. “Surely we have other matters with which to concern ourselves?

     Thranduil’s voice, stronger and more confident than Elrond had ever heard it before, cut through the conversation. “To trust that Sauron has been vanquished and is no longer a threat is foolhardy and short-sighted in the extreme,” he said. “The time to concern ourselves with threats is not when they are on our doorstep, it is _before_ they come to us again.”

     “You have inherited your father’s paranoia, I see, thought it seems you have a different focus for it,” the first council member said. His comment earned him murmurs of rebuke from those gathered there.

     “I have inherited a healthy sense of reality,” Thranduil replied, voice and gaze both icy. “But by all means, please continue to assume I am the delusional one here. I will gladly accept your thanks when I lead my father’s armies to your rescue, assuming we are not too busy defending ourselves to come to your aid.”

     The council member gave Thranduil an absolutely murderous glare and opened his mouth to counter the young noble’s comment, but Gil-galad held up a hand to stop the argument. “Thranduil’s point is well-taken, I believe,” he said. “While it will not do to drive ourselves to madness with concern, preparation _is_ the preferable path. And so I must ask each of you – are you prepared to defend against Sauron if the need should rise for such defense?” He received nods and murmurs of ascent from the gathered nobles, except for Thranduil, who was quite silent and still. “Thranduil?” Gil-galad prompted. “What say you?”

     “I…am unable to give you an answer,” Thranduil replied. “And I do apologize. But surely you can understand that my father’s control of the Greenwood has not been solidified and he has not as yet been able to raise an army. But when he does, I can assure you that the Greenwood will be prepared to stand by you and defend against Sauron.”

     Gil-galad declared himself satisfied and suggested that they deal with a few other issues while they were there. It seemed that his friend Círdan had requested more support and materials for the creation of his fleet of ships that would ultimately carry the elves to Valinor, and Gil-galad thought it best to check with the council before making any decisions. Círdan’s request was easily confirmed, and shortly thereafter the meeting was finished. Elrond quickly made his way around the table to speak with Thranduil, though he had to wait patiently while some of the more senior council members conversed with the young noble. But their conversation soon ended and he found himself standing beside Thranduil with nobody else to interfere.

     “What is this about your father and the Greenwood? You have mentioned it before, I believe but the details escape me,” he said.

      Thranduil was just about to answer when Gil-galad’s voice cut through the din of council members chatting. “Thranduil, I would speak with you privately, if you have a moment.”

     “Of course,” Thranduil replied. He turned back to Elrond and, in a soft and barely audible voice, added, “I’ll speak with you later. Come to me in the library if you can.”

     Elrond just nodded and took his leave. He would make sure there was time for a library visit later.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil waited until everyone else had left and a servant had closed the doors of the council chambers, leaving him alone with the king, before he spoke. “You wished to speak with me?”

     “I merely wish for some clarification on your father’s position,” Gil-galad said. “He has decided to return to the Greenwood, after all…but he has left you here.”

     “For my safety, or so he said. He seems to believe I am better off here until things are more…ah…settled in his new realm.”

     “I see.” The king drummed his fingers on the table before him as he studied Thranduil. “Surely he realizes that if war comes while he is away, it is far more likely to come here than the Greenwood, and that he is risking that you will once again be in the thick of it?”

     Thranduil gulped a little and gripped the back of the nearest chair. “I…am capable of taking care of myself, your grace,” he finally said. “And if you would allow me, I think I could be a valuable ally to you on the battlefield.”

     “I’m certain you are correct, young one,” Gil-galad said gently. “That is not my concern. I was there during the War of Wrath. I cared for you myself, at the end of it…you may not be my son, but I worry for you. I worry _about_ you. I wish only to see you safe and happy.”

     Thranduil smiled a little and finally let go of the chair. “That is kind of you,” he said. “But I think complete safety, for anyone, is out of the question until Sauron is defeated once and for all, and I am not convinced that has happened yet. Neither are you, from the sounds of it.”

     “And your father? What does he think?”

     “Nothing specific, as far as I can tell. He could easily be turned to your point of view.”

     Gil-galad nodded in satisfaction. “I see. I am glad to hear that. Please send him my regards, should you speak with him before me.” He paused and tilted his head a little, studying Thranduil’s hand. “Such a lovely ring. I don’t recall seeing you wear that one before.”

     Thranduil looked down at his hand and blushed a little. “Thank you. It was a gift from…an admirer.”

     “Oh? …Your special one, by any chance?” the king asked. Thranduil simply smiled and nodded. “Then I am very happy for you.” He glanced out the window to gauge the hour and added, “And I shouldn’t keep you. Thank you for speaking with me.”

     Thranduil bowed and took his leave. The moment he was in the halls with no prying eyes on him, he dashed to the library to wait for Elrond.

     Gil-galad watched the younger elf go and sighed sadly. He had recognized the ring as the one he had given Elrond. _So he is your special one, my young friend. I think that you must have been both uniquely blessed and cursed at your birth…blessed with beauty and the chance for a special love…cursed with a lifetime already marred by war and a father who will never understand or accept what you have with Elrond. If only you could be saved from the pain to come._

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Elrond found Thranduil in his usual spot in the library, long legs thrown over the chair arm and a book propped in his lap as always. But he wasn’t actually reading the book. His attention was focused on the scenery out the window, his eyes following the branches of the closest trees as they swayed in the breeze. Elrond’s approach caught his attention and he flashed the dark-haired elf a bright smile before swinging his legs off the chair arm and sitting up more properly. Elrond sat on the chair arm and rested his arm on the chair back to brace himself, then leaned forward for a kiss. He kept his eyes open just long enough to watch Thranduil’s eyes flutter closed, but then he was lost in his partner’s soft lips and faint, sweet smell, in the touch of Thranduil’s delicate fingers on his cheek, and the sound of Thranduil’s somewhat shaky breathing as their lips met. They had kissed many times since that first one at the winter feast, but somehow the act never lost its excitement or intimacy for them. By the time they broke the kiss and pulled away from each other, both of their faces were tinged with pink and Elrond found that he had a difficult time catching his breath.

    “How is something so simple always so wonderful?” Thranduil murmured, letting his fingers linger on Elond’s cheek.

     “I don’t know…but I think I’m glad of it. Besides, if we knew the secret, would it lose its allure?”

     “Mmm, perhaps.” Thranduil finally let his hand fall back into his lap. “Now, what were we going to talk about here?”

     Elrond laughed softly. “Your father and the Greenwood, I believe,” he said. “Perhaps also why you were at the council this morning. Shouldn’t that be his job? Or are you always there?”

      “Usually he goes,” Thranduil said. “But he left to return to the Greenwood this morning, and so I am taking his place at official functions.” He smiled up at Elrond. “My father, like many of the Sinda, wants to live a bit closer to nature than is allowed in a place like this, so he has gone to the Greenwood in the hopes of doing so. Silvan elves already live there…they seem to like and respect him. I believe he has gone back to them to become their leader.”

     “I see,” Elrond said, turning his gaze out the window as he considered this new information. “So does this mean you’re going to be a prince soon?”

     “Perhaps,” Thranduil said. “But it doesn’t matter so much to me. I have bigger concerns than titles. I hear the Greenwood is beautiful, though. It would be lovely to be there, in the woods all the time, instead of in a building or the gardens…”

     “Will you have to leave Lindon to join him soon?”

     Thranduil shook his head. “Not soon, but someday.” He reached out to squeeze Elrond’s hand. “But by then we will both be able to travel more on our own, I hope, and we can visit each other…maybe we could even…maybe you could…” His cheeks turned cherry-red and he stammered to a halt.

      “Maybe we could what?” Elrond prompted, shifting so he could hold Thranduil’s hand in both of his.

      “Well,” Thranduil said softly, “maybe you could join us, and stay with me. We could lead the Greenwood together someday.”

     “Perhaps,” Elrond replied, and chuckled a little. “But that’s far in the future, is it not?”

     “I hope so,” Thranduil said. “I can’t imagine not being with you every day yet. I still need that.”

     “As do I.” Elrond leaned back a little and studied Thranduil’s hand, gently twisting the ring on his finger and making the gems in it sparkle. “Since your father isn’t here now, does this mean we can be more open?”

     Thranduil shook his head, and for a moment Elrond was completely dazzled by the way his hair caught the light of the setting sun streaming in through the library windows. “He has people to keep an eye on me, I’m sure. And…many here would never accept us as a couple anyway. We must still be cautious.”

     “You make a good point,” Elrond said.

     Before Thranduil could reply, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Elrond let go of Thranduil’s hand and slid off the chair, clasping his hands behind his back and going to stand closer to the window. Thranduil, meanwhile, opened his book so that it looked as though he had been reading, and schooled his features into a more serious expression. “I wonder who –“

     “Ah, Elrond,” Tarador said as he rounded the corner. “And Thranduil too. Good, this saves me some time.”

     “Is something the matter?” Elrond asked, fighting the sudden alarm his former superior’s appearance caused in him. A quick glance at Thranduil’s face showed Elrond that he wasn’t the only one feeling dread right now, but if Tarador noticed anything odd about Thranduil’s expression, he didn’t say. For once, Elrond was grateful that most people here seemed to see Thranduil as a pretty face and little else.

     “It may be nothing, but…the king felt we should be cautious anyway,” Tarador said. “Some of the guards that set out with Lord Oropher this morning returned and reported that they tangled with a small band of orcs just beyond Lindon’s borders. Please, have no fear,” he said, turning his attention to Thranduil when the blond elf gasped, “they reported that your father and his other companions are safe and well on their way to the Greenwood. The orcs were easily vanquished.”

     “But still…Orcs, this close to Lindon,” Elrond said gravely, crossing his arms. His face settled into a stern, almost angry expression. “That sounds like a problem.”

     “Did I not urge caution in the council _just_ this morning?” Thranduil asked. “Perhaps now the others will listen.”

     Tarador gave him a small bow. “You have Gil-galad’s ear, and his confidence, Thranduil. He agrees with your desire for caution. That is why we are going to be doubling the guards and patrols.”

     Elrond’s jaw clenched and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. First orcs, and now more work…He knew Thranduil understood, and of course he understood too, but it was still a struggle for him. “Did he give you orders for me?”

     “Only that you return to the barracks as soon as possible to help me organize the watches. I know how hard he works you, Elrond, and I have no desire to add to that, but everyone is needed now. Especially you.”

     “Of course, I understand. Please let me finish my conversation with Thranduil. I’ll meet you in the barracks shortly.

     Tarador nodded. “Of course.” He turned on his heal and disappeared back into the stacks. As his footsteps faded, Elrond turned to look out the windows instead, eyes scanning the horizon as far as he could see, as though he fully expected an army of orcs to appear at any second. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when Thranduil came to stand next to him until the other elf rested his head and hands on Elrond’s shoulder. At that gentle touch, he turned his head to kiss the silky golden hair, then turned and carefully wrapped his arms around Thranduil.

     “You have experience with these things, don’t you?” he asked softly.

     Thranduil nodded. “Sadly yes. Which will come in handy should the orcs arrive.”

     “I want you to stay safe.”

     “Of course, as do I, and I want the same for you,” Thranduil said, raising his head to look Elrond in the eye. “But we must do what we must, and sometimes what we must do is put ourselves in harm’s way for the good of those who can’t. There are many such folk here in Lindon. Would you have me abandon them just to keep myself safe?”

     Elrond sighed and shifted his grip so he was holding Thranduil by the shoulders rather than hugging him. “I…well. My mind tells me that what you say is true. But my heart? Suddenly, I can understand why your father is so cautious with you.” A dark frown clouded Thranduil’s face, and Elrond shook his head. “No, Thranduil, I’m not saying that I’ll become him. Just that I understand the impulse to keep you safe. But you’re right. I could never ask you to sit here all pretty and protected while there was work to be done, and you could help do it. It would be foolish to waste your skills…and I know you would never forgive me.

     Thranduil looked terribly relieved, and he rewarded Elrond’s understanding with a quick kiss. “I’m glad you understand,” he said. “And I can’t be angry at you for worrying, it is only natural.”

     “Still,” Elrond replied, hugging the other elf close one last time, “Let’s hope we have nothing to worry about.”


	11. Chapter 10

     When the battle came only a few days later, Elrond and many of the others guarding the castle were just finishing dinner and preparing for the night watch. Everyone who could fight, with the exception of a bare-bones crew to be left guarding the castle, was summoned to the battlefield. The reports coming in indicated that the attacking band of orcs was small, at least for a band that dared attack Lindon, but Gil-galad had spent the past few days with Thranduil’s words ringing in his ears and he saw no point in taking chances. The orcs were to be killed, down to the very last one, with as little loss to the Elvish side of the battle as possible. It would be Elrond’s first real test as Gil-galad’s future herald, as well.

     The battle went much better than he had expected it would, given that the orcs had snuck in under the cover of darkness and the battle itself was waged in the early hours of the night. But elves had excellent senses, and Elrond was proud to note that every elf on the field that night made use of them to track down and kill every orc that had dared enter their realm. The archers managed to take out most of the orcs, and what the archers couldn’t handle Elrond and the other swordsmen did. At one point he thought he caught a glimpse of Thranduil slicing his way through the orc ranks with fierce determination and a surprising level of grace, but then the need to focus on his own fights distracted him and he lost sight of the blond-haired warrior. By the end of the battle, with no sign of the mysterious blond elf, Elrond convinced himself that it hadn’t been Thranduil. Perhaps their conversation had made him more cautious and he had chosen to stay at the castle with those few who had been assigned to defend it.

     Elrond remained on the battlefield well into the morning, helping to search for injured elves and anything that could be taken from the orcs to help identify their origin and purpose. But he himself found no injured allies, and he was too busy collecting orcish weapons and other possible evidence to pay attention to what was going on elsewhere in the field. By the time Gil-galad called a halt to the searches, it was already mid-morning. The king assigned several elves to stay behind and dispose of the orc bodies, but Elrond and most of his other high-ranking officers were ordered to return to the castle with him.

     “Strange for orcs to come so far into Lindon,” Elrond murmured as he walked at the king’s side.

     “Thranduil’s words ring more and more true every day,” Gil-galad murmured back. “Have you any ideas yet, Elrond?”

     “None, I’m afraid,” he said. “My gut tells me that this wasn’t the prelude to anything worse, though. I simply cannot imagine Sauron or anyone else being so foolish as to send such a small and ill-prepared group of orcs against the forces of Lindon.”

     “Perhaps. Or perhaps that is what our enemies wish for us to think…” Gil-galad sighed. “Most likely, nothing will come of it today. We defeated this force entirely. There was not even a messenger left alive. It will take some time for their master, whoever it is, to know what happened here. I think, once we return to the castle, we can afford some time to rest and recover.” He glanced over at Elrond. “I want you in particular to rest, Elrond. I will need you beside me later to further assess the situation, and possibly also to fend off any more incursions of orcs into our lands.”

     Elrond simply nodded and said, “Of course,” before falling silent. They made it back to the castle without further comment or event, and Elrond immediately made for the barracks to clean up and get some sleep. But he never made it there.

     “There you are, I was wondering when you were finally going to turn up,” Galion said as he rounded the corner just ahead of Elrond. He stalked forward and grabbed Elrond’s arm in an iron grip. “You’re coming with me.”

     “Galion, I need to clean myself and rest,” Elrond replied, struggling valiantly to loosen the aide’s grip. “I only just returned and I’m under orders to do so.”

     Galion scowled at him. “Would you place orders above Thranduil’s life?”

     Elrond felt his blood go cold even as his heart leapt into his throat. “What are you talking about?”

     “Thranduil was injured. I don’t know the extent of it, there was blood everywhere and that’s all I saw. Maybe it wasn’t even all his, I don’t know. But the healers have been tending him since he was brought back, and just a few minutes ago they said they had done all they could…he would want you, Elrond. He would want you at his side.”

     “Lead the way,” he ordered, and Galion gladly did so. Both elves ignored the stares Elrond’s dirty, blood-spattered attire earned them from the few people out and about in the castle’s halls, so focused were they on returning to Thranduil’s chambers.

     When they arrived, Galion ushered Elrond in and closed the main doors behind him. “In there,” he said, nodding towards Thranduil’s bedroom. Elrond wasted no more time in waiting for Galion. He simply strode into Thranduil’s room and straight to the other elf’s bedside, not caring if he got dirt or blood on anything else in those rooms.

      Thranduil lay sound asleep in his bed, his hair fanned out around him like a silky halo. Normally Elrond would have found the sight beautiful, entrancing even, but now all he could notice was how dangerously pale Thranduil was, how much of his torso was wrapped in bandages that were holding complex herbal poultices in place, and how many blood-stained sheets sat in a pile on the floor beside Thranduil’s bed. Galion made a soft noise of disapproval when he noticed the sheets and made himself busy removing them, muttering all the while about how the healers could have at least taken those things with them. But Elrond paid him no mind. He simply sat on the edge of Thranduil’s bed and gently took one of the young noble’s long-fingered, delicate hands in his own. He winced at how cool Thanduil was to the touch.

     “What happened to him?” he whispered when Galion reappeared.

     “Stabbed, I guess. I don’t know, I’m not much for fighting,” Galion whispered back. “They said if he makes it through the night he’ll be fine.”

     Elrond lifted the edge of a bandage to see what poultices had been used. “Please tell me they did more for him than just put these on.”

     “Of course. All the usual magic,” Galion replied. “Same stuff Gil-galad did to him in Doriath, I think.”

     _If only I thought he would come to save Thranduil again_ …Elrond thought. But he nodded to Galion and tried to be encouraging. “Fine magic, then,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll try a little later, if he hasn’t improved much.”

     Galion nodded and sat down on the opposite side of the bed, and reached out to fuss with Thranduil’s blankets a little. “I don’t want him to die, Elrond. I haven’t got any other close friends here…not really anyway.”

     Elrond had to twist his head a bit to look at Galion, and was surprised to notice tears in the young aide’s eyes. “Galion…” he said softly. “I’m not going to let him die. You have to believe that.”

     Galion sniffled a little, then nodded bravely. “Yes. If there’s one person here who has even more reason not to lose him than me… _and_ might be able to do something about it…”

     Elrond leaned over to touch Galion’s arm, being very careful not to crush Thranduil in the process. “I know that knowing how much you care would mean a great deal to him now too. He doesn’t have many friends either, you know.”

     “Of course I know,” Galion said, trying to smile his usual cheeky smile through the tears. “I’ve been with him since I was a baby.” Elrond looked confused, so Galion continued, “I’m younger than him by a few years. But they brought me to court as a baby. I’ve been told he was made to take care of me first, until I was old enough to join him in his lessons, and then we were just playmates, and then when I turned about twenty I officially became a servant to him. He’s never treated me like some of the nobles treat their servants, though.”

     “Suddenly an awful lot about you makes sense,” Elrond said, and Galion laughed a little. Elrond sighed and turned his attention back to Thranduil. “He’ll make it, Galion, I swear to you. Even if I have to give my own life for it.”

     For the rest of the day and long into the night, it was touch and go with Thranduil. At one point Elrond even sent Galion to tell Gil-galad that he was busy helping with wounded soldiers and wouldn’t be able to do anything else that day. Gil-galad sent back words of encouragement and a basket full of supplies he thought might be useful, along with a note urging Elrond to call for his aid if needed. Elrond was determined not to bother the king, but also told Galion to remain alert and to run for the king’s help if at any point it seemed like Thranduil’s care was overwhelming Elrond’s abilities.

     Finally, just past midnight, Elrond noticed color and warmth returning to Thranduil’s body, and Elrond felt that he could drop his guard a little. Galion urged him to get out of his armor and have a bath, if he wanted. Elrond accepted his help in removing the armor, and once he extracted a promise that Galion would alert him to any problems, he made use of Thranduil’s private bath (far nicer than the shared facilities in the barracks) to clean off. Galion had found him some clean clothes while he bathed, and he slipped into the soft robe and loose pants before returning to Thranduil’s room.

     “Am I wearing his clothes or yours?” he asked.

     “His,” Galion replied. “Mine wouldn’t fit you, you’re taller and your shoulders are broader than mine.”

     “I see,” Elrond replied. He took up his spot beside Thranduil again and fought off a yawn.

     “Lie down and get some rest,” Galion said softly. “I can stay awake. I’ve done it before, and we need you at your best.”

     Elrond shook his head. “I don’t want to sleep,” he said. “What if he wakes up?”

     “Then I’m sure he or I can wake you up too,” Galion replied. He gave Elrond’s shoulder a gentle push, and when it was almost enough to knock the dark-haired elf over, he had to concede that Galion had a point.

     “Fine,” he finally said. “But you wake me up the second something happens.” And with that he fell onto his side, hand still clutching Thranduil’s, and fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time getting the formatting to work this morning, so I hope everything is readable and not wonky! It looks okay in the preview...

Elrond woke up to warm sunlight, birds chirping, and Thranduil’s face turned towards him, looking incredibly peaceful in sleep. For a moment, Elrond thought he was in a dream. How else could he have wound up sleeping so close to the beautiful elf? But then he remembered – the orcs, the battle, the injury – and suddenly he jerked up right and began frantically examining Thranduil’s torso. Galion came in when he heard Elrond moving around and he helped lift Thranduil off the bed so his bandages could be removed. Elrond was relieved to see that he and the healers had done excellent work. The injuries were almost gone, and within months the scars from them would be gone too. As he laid Thranduil back down on his pillows, Galion bustled around opening windows to let fresh air in and gathering up the old bandages for disposal. 

He sighed in relief and laid back down beside Thranduil and reached out to stroke his cheek. The feeling of warmth radiating from the blond elf was such a contrast from the clammy coldness of the night before and Elrond found it quite comforting. It was yet one more sign that Thranduil was on the mend. Now if he would just wake up…

As though summoned by Elrond’s thoughts, Thranduil stirred and his starry blue eyes fluttered open. He just lay there for a moment seeming utterly perplexed by the presence of another person in his bed and the fact that someone was touching his cheek, but as he woke up enough to recognize his companion the confusion on his face turned to a relieved, comforted smile. He reached up and covered Elrond’s hand with his own. 

“How do you feel?” Elrond whispered.

“Everything hurts,” Thranduil whispered back. “But I’m alive to feel it so it can’t be all bad.”

Elrond laughed and shifted closer to kiss him, then sat up so he could get a better look at Thranduil. With his golden hair fanned out on the pillow beneath him and his cheeks pink from their kiss, he looked much healthier, and absolutely gorgeous. “I thought I saw you in the battle,” Elrond said. “But then I lost sight of you, and though I had been mistaken. And when Galion came for me when we returned, I…”

“You shouldn’t worry so much, I’ve survived worse,” Thranduil said, patting Elrond’s knee. 

“Maybe. But this is the first time I had to see you injured. And you were quite close to death all night, my love.”

Thranduil just blinked at him for a moment, lips parting as he drew in a surprised breath, and he pushed himself up on one elbow. “What did you just call me?”

“I…” Elrond found that he had to actually think about it. The term of endearment had rolled off of his tongue as easily as any other regularly-spoken word, and so he hadn’t noticed it, and wouldn’t have had Thranduil not called attention to it. But once he took the time to remember, the realization of what he had said so easily stunned him. “…My love. I called you my love.”

Thranduil mouthed the words a little, then lay back on his pillows with a terribly satisfied look on his face. “I like it,” he said. “I am surprised by it, but I like it.”

“It suits you,” Elrond said, and Thranduil laughed a little. He winced at the end of it, though, and clutched his side.

“I shouldn’t do that again soon,” he muttered.

“Agreed. Another day or so and you should be back to normal,” Elrond said, gently pushing Thranduil’s hand aside so he could examine the injury that had hurt when he laughed. 

Before Thranduil could answer, Galion appeared in the door, carrying a note. He handed it to Elrond. “Summons from Gil-galad, apparently. He saw me disposing of the bandages and thought I might know where you were.”

“Why would he think so?” Elrond asked as he opened the note. Grey eyes made quick work of skimming the writing there, and he sighed, then leaned over to kiss Thranduil’s forehead. “He wants to discuss Lindon’s defenses, and I have already taken advantage of his good graces enough by asking to stay with you,” he explained. “So I must go now. But I promise to return as soon as possible. And if that will be a long time…I’ll write. Stay in bed and rest.” He got up and dropped the note on Thranduil’s bedside table as Galion helped him back into his armor, then escorted him back to the main door. “Make sure he actually does rest,” he said softly to the young aide. “He needs it.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to keep him there,” Galion said. When Elrond gave him a look that was borderline murderous, Galion just laughed and held up his hands. “It’s perfectly innocent! Good books. He’ll probably read that damn poetry book of yours again today.”

“Just so he stays in bed to do it,” Elrond said, and dashed from the room.

*** *** ***

“Ah, Elrond, excellent. Either you got my note or you have impeccable timing regardless.”

Elrond bowed to the king as a guard closed the doors to the study behind him. “I received your note,” he said. “Though how you knew Galion would know where I was is…a great mystery to me.”

Gil-galad waved Elrond to a free chair by his desk. “I noticed Thranduil wearing the ring I gave you. And then I thought on the conversations I have had with both of you over the past several weeks. It was not so difficult to understand the situation between you two. Choosing Galion to carry a note to you was only natural given what I know.”

Elrond sat and studied the king suspiciously, one hand tightening on the carved wooden arm of his chair so that the design dug into his palm and left deep marks. “Respectfully, how is this any of your concern? You did say I could do as I wished with the ring.”

“You misunderstand me, then,” Gil-galad said. “This isn’t about the ring. I have no problems with your relationship with Thranduil – or anyone else, for that matter – as long as you do not lose sight of your duties to me here. In fact, I’m quite happy for you both, Thranduil in particular. I have known him since he was a child in Doriath and it pleases me to see him cheerful again. I have concerns, mostly about his father, but unfortunately anything involving Oropher is out of my hands.” He paused as a servant appeared bearing a tray laden down with breakfast for both of them, and as she left, he poured a glass of juice for each of them. “Whether it was Oropher’s intention or not, he is about to become a king in his own right. He has never appreciated being under someone else’s command.” Gil-galad swirled his juice in his glass and took a sip of it, then reached for a slice of bread and some cheese. “You should be aware that I must send him a message concerning Thranduil’s injuries, and I do not know what the result will be. The matter is out of our hands, and we have other things to discuss. …Elrond, eat, you look like you haven’t seen food in a month. Did you have to do healing work on Thranduil?”

“A little,” Elrond replied, gratefully leaning forward to select some fruit for himself. “But the healers here are skilled and thorough. I could probably have left him alone.”

Gil-galad nodded. “Now then, on to the true purpose of our meeting…I would like to know your thoughts on our defenses.”

The discussion was brief and largely fruitless, at least in Elrond’s opinion. He and the king agreed that the orcs had gotten through a weak point in their defenses. Gil-galad suggested that it was a spot they should have noticed before, and done more to protect, but as Elrond viewed the various maps and diagrams the king laid out to support his point, he found that he disagreed. The area the orcs were thought to have used as their entrance was both well-guarded and naturally protected, and Elrond feared that reassigning any more guards to reinforce the area would leave them under-defended elsewhere. Ultimately, Gil-galad and Elrond agreed that the entire council needed to be included in the discussion, and further agreed to do their best to devise some plans that they could present to the council at the next meeting. 

“I am grateful to have you at my side, Elrond,” Gil-galad said as they concluded their conversation. “I have no doubt that we will devise a solution, and you will be a key part of it.”

“And I am grateful for your confidence in me,” Elrond replied.

“You have earned it. Now, you should return to Thranduil. And please let him know I will send a message to his father. He will want to be aware of that.”

*** *** ***

By the time Elrond returned to Thranduil’s side, the blond elf was already sitting up in bed and reading his borrowed poetry book, just as Galion had predicted. A tray filled with food sat beside him, and as he read he absent-mindedly picked at the fruit there. He looked up as Elrond returned and smiled his usual bright smile. “How was your meeting?” he asked.

“About as I expected, I suppose, at least in terms of our discussion of Lindon’s defenses,” Elrond said. Thranduil tilted his head, so Elrond added, “He…knows about us. He recognized the ring you wear as one he gifted to me, and he put together the evidence from the conversations we have both had with him.” Thranduil went tense, clenching his jaw and balling one hand into a fist in his lap. “He approves, at least as much as he can,” Elrond quickly added. “But he worries about your father.”

“Ugh, I can’t think about my father right now. Tell me what else you spoke of,” Thranduil said. He was still tense, and the mention of his father had clearly not helped.

Elrond sat on his bed and took a berry when Thranduil offered him a bowl of them. “He merely asked my opinion of Lindon’s defenses and how to improve them. Unfortunately, I have few ideas. Given the resources we have, I don’t see how our defenses could be much better.”

“But clearly they could be improved,” Thranduil pointed out. “The arrival of even one orc in our borders is a glaring sign of failure, and we had a whole band of them here last night.”

“I know,” Elrond said, “but barring the arrival of another Melian capable of forming the kind of girdle that once protected Doriath, I don’t think impenetrable defenses will be possible.”

“Is there no way to raise a larger army?”

Elrond shook his head. “Most all who are capable of bearing arms are already doing so.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Most all? As in, not everyone?”

“Well, we do need some people to do things other than guard and fight,” Elrond said. “Otherwise what would we be guarding?”

Thranduil made a great show of sweeping his hair off of his shoulder and his face took on an incredibly haughty look. “Me, of course. I’ll sit here and be the Jewel of Lindon while you all go out and fight to defend me. I’ll make Adar proud.”

Elrond laughed a little, then sighed. “Speaking of your father,” he said, and winced a little when Thranduil immediately went tense again, “Gil-galad asked me to tell you that he will send a message to him about your injuries.”

Thanduil let his head fall back against his bed’s headboard with a thunk that made Elrond wince and Galion come running to see what had happened. “Why must he always be involved in everything I do?” Thranduil snarled. “I am fine. I will be fine. I do not need him here, at least not to dote on me and force me to lay in bed longer when there is no need for me to stay here.”

“He’s your father,” Elrond said, reaching out to stroke Thranduil’s hair in what he hoped would be a soothing manner. “He’s worried about you, just like I am.” Thranduil’s gaze darted to Elrond’s face, and for a moment the dark-haired elf nearly stopped talking right then and there, but he pressed on. “I would be worried about any child of mine, if I heard he or she was injured in battle.”

“If Adar truly cared about me or anyone else, he wouldn’t be taking a whole band of people from Lindon and trying to set up his own kingdom in the Greenwood,” Thranduil replied coldly. “The only good thing about that whole situation is that he isn’t imposing himself on the elves there, they chose him, though I must question whether or not they quite knew what they were getting into in accepting him as their king.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, wincing a bit as the movement irritated some of his wounds. “I understand his desire to be closer to nature and to escape some of our peoples’ history, I really do, but perhaps instead of thinking of himself and his own betterment he could think of others for once. Like me, or the people he left here under-defended. I can only imagine that the people going with him include a good number of soldiers and future soldiers, who could have easily been a part of the guard here and could have potentially helped prevent this whole situation in the first place!”

“Perhaps your father feels that by going to the Greenwood, he is doing what is best for you and those who are loyal to him,” Elrond said.

Thranduil just waved a hand. “You don’t want to get in the middle of this fight between us, Elrond. I think Adar believes as you say. I say that the Silvan elves of the Greenwood have been fine without us for a long time and would continue to be fine without us for longer. As nobles, we have responsibilities to those we serve and to those who serve us, and I can’t help but feel like he is abandoning some of those responsibilities by leaving.” He laughed a little, but it was a bitter sound, nothing like his usual cheerful laugh. “Then again, this is the man who seems to think that because I was injured once, I am not capable of caring for myself or making my own decisions or really being anything but a pretty decoration in the court, and the path to procuring a grandson.”

“Surely you are more than that to him, Thranduil,” Elrond said softly. When Thranduil didn’t reply, he touched his fingers to Thranduil’s cheek and pressed gently until the other elf turned to look at him. “I know it annoys you, but surely he does these things out of love, to protect you.”

“I’m sure he does, love,” Thranduil said, “but that does not make it less hurtful to me. I am the one living in a cage of my father’s making, not you.”

“Perhaps not, but I do feel some of its effects,” Elrond said.

“Well…all we can do now is wait and see what comes of Gil-galad’s message,” Thranduil said. “Perhaps it won’t be so bad.”


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still having some issues with formatting and uploading, folks, so hopefully this one is readable. It looks okay in my preview but if it's not, please let me know so I can fuss with it.

It was over a week before a message from Oropher finally arrived, and was met with mixed feelings by those who read it. Gil-galad was furious on Thranduil’s behalf because the message indicated that Oropher would not be cancelling his move to the Greenwood in favor of returning to be at his son’s bedside, like the king thought he should. Rather, since the note he had received about Thranduil’s injuries indicated that he would recover, Oropher simply asked to be informed of any changes and said that he would send for Thranduil to join him when he was somewhat settled in the Greenwood. Elrond wasn’t sure how he felt about the note. On the one hand he too was upset that Oropher seemed to value becoming King of the Greenwood over being with his injured son. But on the other hand, he thought that Thranduil would be pleased to have a chance to live outside of his father’s shadow, even if it was only for a few days or weeks. Thranduil himself simply tossed the note aside after reading it and promptly went back to the book he had in his lap. With Gil-galad and the healers in his room, he simply said that he understood what his father was doing and had chosen not to be upset by it. But when they left and he was alone with Elrond and Galion, he showed his true feelings.

“I can’t decide which feeling is stronger,” he said one night as he snuggled in Elrond’s protective embrace, “happiness that I have some time without him trying to control my every move, or sorrow that he wouldn’t come back for me.”

Elrond kissed his forehead and pressed his cheek to Thranduil’s hair. “I don’t pretend to understand your father, my love,” he said.

“Pity. I was hoping one of us would be able to eventually,” Thranduil replied.

“Gil-galad seemed quite furious with him.”

“I’m not surprised.” Thranduil sighed a little and tilted his face up to kiss Elrond’s cheek. “He still remembers when I almost died the first time.”

Elrond just nodded and rubbed Thranduil’s arm a little. “You know…you have never told me much about that except that it happened. I know you don’t like to speak of it, but…will you ever tell me?”

Thranduil remained silent for a long while, to the point that Elrond even started to wonder if he had fallen asleep. Finally, he stirred, pulling away from Elrond and fixing him with a terribly serious look. “You must understand that what happened is very painful for me to speak of,” he said, “or even to think about. It makes me panic and gives me nightmares…I’m quite ashamed of what happens when I remember it, really.” He reached up and pressed a finger to Elrond’s lips to stop him from speaking. “Which means that when I tell you, if you can’t handle it, our relationship will be over, soul mates or no. Me telling you is a sign that I trust you completely. There is no stronger sign of my trust that I could give you. The only other people in my life who know the details know because they were there. They saw it first-hand. Do you understand?”

Elrond nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But…if it is really so painful for you, maybe it’s best if you never tell me.”

“No, I think you should know. It…well. I think my relationship with my father was largely shaped by what happened. It explains some things about me too. You should know the scars I carry.”

“As long as you feel up to it,” Elrond replied. Thranduil gave a satisfied little nod and snuggled up to Elrond again, tucking his head under the other’s chin. “How are your injuries?” Elrond asked.

“Much better,” Thranduil said. “I feel no pain from them, and the scars are so faint now. They’ll be gone in no time, I’m sure.”

“Indeed?” Elrond asked. He loosened his grip on Thanduil a little and rested one hand on his side, lightly stroking with his thumb. When Thranduil didn’t react badly to the touch, he began to run his entire hand up and down Thranduil’s side, finally letting it come to rest on the other’s hip. 

Thranduil chuckled little and brought his hand to rest on Elrond’s chest. “Where is that hand of yours going?”

“Nowhere else, unless you wish it to,” Elrond replied. He watched Thranduil trace little patterns on his chest with his delicate fingers. “I just…find myself wanting more and more with you. More of your hands on me, my hands on more of you…”

Thranduil coughed a little and squirmed. “I-I know what you mean. But I don’t know what to do…”

“Touch me,” Elrond said, looking down at him and kissing the top of his head. “If you want, I mean, obviously I don’t want to push you…”

Thranduil laughed a little and pulled away from Elrond, just enough that he could begin placing gentle kisses all along the other’s neck and throat. Elrond let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Thranduil’s impossibly soft lips and gentle kisses…this, he was sure, was what it felt like to be in heaven. He raised his hand to Thranduil’s cheek, lightly brushing the backs of his fingers over his lover’s perfect skin, and smiled at the way his touch made Thranduil suck in the tiniest little gasp. He buried his hand in Thranduil’s hair, marveling as he always did at how the strands flowed like liquid through his fingers, and pulled the other elf closer for a proper, deep kiss.

But ultimately, for both of them, the kiss was just a distraction. Their focus was instead on the movement of hands across bodies. Elrond’s stronger, more calloused hand ghosted over Thranduil’s side and came to rest on his hip for a moment before sliding down his thigh, hooking under his knee and gently tugging until Thranduil finally wrapped his gorgeous long leg around Elrond’s. Thranduil gasped against Elrond’s lips and pressed a delicate hand flat against his chest, and for the longest time it seemed that his hand would simply stay there. But then slowly, hesitantly, as though frightened to make any sudden moves, he slid his hand up and over Elrond’s shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment, rubbing gentle circles into tense muscles, then slowly began to work his way down Elrond’s back. Just as he reached the gentle curve of the other elf’s rear he stopped again and moved his hand to Elrond’s side, where he allowed nothing but his fingertips to maintain contact with his beloved’s clothed body. 

Elrond hissed and squirmed a little. “Tease,” he said, and Thranduil just laughed.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” the blond elf said, eyes sparkling as he grinned up at Elrond.

“Nor do I, but this is how we learn, is it not?” Elrond countered. 

“I suppose so…” Thranduil rested his hand on Elrond’s stomach and traced the muscles there with his fingers. “I so admire your strength, my love…”

Elrond just smiled and captured Thranduil’s mouth in another kiss, allowing his hand to wander aimlessly and not even paying attention to what he was doing. He was vaguely aware of touching Thranduil’s leg, and of the way the other shifted to let his hand roam further. He glanced down once, and noticed that his hand had made it most of the way up Thranduil’s inner thigh. Elrond hesitated, thumb gently stroking Thranduil’s leg, and then gently placed his hand over the bulge in Tranduil’s crotch.

Thranduil gasped and tossed his head back, starry eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what he felt. “Ai, Elrond!” he hissed.

“Did I hurt you?” Elrond asked, jerking his hand away. “What did I do?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Thranduil said as he gasped for breath. “Valar, that feels amazing, Elrond, don’t stop…” 

Elrond had never seen his beloved like this before, with his head tossed back, eyes wild and kiss-swollen lips parted in pure pleasure, his hand tightened around a handful of Elrond’s shirt. He let his hand come to rest on Thranduil’s crotch once more and gave a few gentle, experimental rubs, which earned him throaty moans and ragged gasps in return. It took a moment, but soon Thranduil loosened his grip on Elrond’s shirt and slowly, hesitantly, let his shaking hand come to rest over Elrond’s crotch as well, doing his best to mirror the other elf’s movements. Elrond moaned softly and let his head fall forward until his forehead was pressed to Thranduil’s and he could feel the other elf’s warm, ragged breath against his face. By the Valar, what I wouldn’t give to feel those long fingers of his around me…

“Elrond,” Thranduil whimpered, “I—“

But he never got a chance to finish his sentence, for at that moment Galion pounded on the door. “Elrond, the king wants you!” he called.

“Well the king can’t have you, you’re mine,” Thranduil muttered in a rather petulant tone. 

Elrond shook his head and chuckled a little, then called back, “Send the messenger to tell him I’ll be right there.”

“No, Elrond, he means – “

“NOW, Elrond,” the king’s rather angry voice interrupted. 

Thranduil practically shoved Elrond out of bed, hissing, “Go!” at him as he did. Elrond needed no encouragement. He rolled out of bed and dashed to the door, yanked it open, and stepped into Thranduil’s well-appointed sitting room. He had the sense to close the door behind him.

“If I have done something wrong, my lord –“

Gil-galad waved his hand to cut Elrond off. “You have not. What you do in your spare time is your own concern and not mine. But I have received word that a much larger force of orcs is marching on our border and I need all of my men at my side. Gather your forces and meet me at the gates within the hour. We march immediately.”

“Of course,” Elrond said. He waited until the king left, then turned back to Thranduil’s room and opened the door. Thranduil was standing there, waiting for him. “I presume you heard that,” Elrond asked him.

Thranduil simply nodded. “I did. You must do your duty.”

“I hate to leave your side…”

“And I hate to see you go. But in the end I would think less of you if you abandoned your responsibilities to be with me.” He reached out and rested his hands on Elrond’s shoulders, gently drawing him closer for a hug. “Just make me one promise…that no matter what happens, you will come back to me,” he whispered. “I can no longer imagine a life without you in it.”

Elrond nodded and turned his head to kiss the shell of Thranduil’s ear, and as Thranduil looked up at him again he gave his beloved a proper, tender kiss, lightly nipping at his lower lip before letting him go. “I will return to you. I promise.”

Thranduil followed him as far as the sitting room and watched him leave, then returned to his own room and began hunting through his clothes. “Galion!” he called. “What happened to my armor?”

Galion poked his head into the bedroom and frowned at Thranduil’s backside, which was the only part of him visible since he was digging so deeply into his wardrobe. “It’s in the armory for repairs,” he said. “But since you’re injured nobody thought you would use it anytime soon so it’s been kind of a low priority.”

“Are you joking?” Thranduil demanded, though of course he already knew the answer. His armor wasn’t here and Galion wouldn’t lie about where it was. “Then I’m going to need some other armor.”

“Now who’s telling jokes,” Galion said. “You’re still recovering, you can’t go marching into battle!”

“Well, you’re not going to stop me, either,” Thranduil said. “So go get me some armor! …Please.” 

Galion considered refusing, then sighed in defeat. He knew Thranduil well enough to know that the headstrong young noble would just go get his own armor if Galion refused to do it. “Anything in particular you want?” he asked.

Thranduil had by now moved on to retrieving his knives and swords from where he stored them in a box under his bed, and was carefully examining them to make sure he didn’t need Galion to find weapons too. “Something with a good balance of strength and light weight,” he said. “And a helmet, something that will hide my face a bit. No need to risk someone identifying me and telling Adar.”

“Right,” Galion said, and he rushed off to the nearest armory. Thranduil passed the time while he waited with changing into the light clothing he wore under armor, then paced around his room until Galion returned almost a half-hour later. “It’s crazy down there,” he said as he panted for breath. “Everyone who can take up arms is doing so. Lots of people without their own armor.” He dropped everything on Thranduil’s bed and started to help him into the armor. “Good think you have your own weapons. Those would have been hard to come by.”

“I would rather use my own anyway,” Thranduil said. “I don’t know what I would have done if they too had been sent for repairs.”

Galion finally got the last bit of armor situated and handed the helmet to Thranduil, who put it on and checked himself in the mirror. The helmet obscured quite a bit of his face, but still allowed him to see clearly. “Good,” he said. “You chose well, Galion, thank you. Now stay safe here, and if you must escape just do so. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“You better hurry, Thranduil, they’re already starting to gather at the gates.”

Thranduil just nodded and armed himself, then with a final look at Galion he dashed off towards the gates. He passed only a few people in the halls, none of whom recognized him but all of whom called out shouts of luck and encouragement as he rushed past. In the great hall, he found a group of soldiers jogging to the main gate, and he joined them. They either didn’t notice or assumed he was one of them, because they didn’t say a word to him as they hurried along. Within minutes he was in the courtyard, and just in time, too, for it seemed like he had only just arrived when Gil-galad ordered them to march. Thranduil had no idea where they were going, and wasn’t certain he cared either. He just followed along like an obedient soldier and hoped that they would be able to stop the orcs in time.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, here we go. NOW this thing earns its "E" rating :p

For the rest of the day and all through the night they marched, and by the time they reached Gil-galad’s chosen battle ground the next morning, Thranduil was beginning to think Galion had been right – he should have stayed at the castle and rested. Though he felt no pain, and was sure his injuries were fine, he felt tired and weak. It was a sure sign that he hadn’t completely healed, and one he was all too familiar with. And the heat of the day, unseasonable for the early summer, certainly wasn’t helping either.

He settled into the shade of a tree and closed his eyes when Gil-galad called a halt and ordered his troops to rest. He wanted to find Elrond, so he could at least be near the other elf even if he never identified himself to Elrond, but for the moment rest was more important. He drifted in and out of consciousness a bit, though when an elf he didn’t recognize shook him awake and offered him some water and lembas he gratefully took them. Between those things and the brief rest he had taken, he felt much better, and as the sun set and preparations for battle began in earnest he climbed back to his feet and went in search of Elrond.

Thranduil finally found the dark-haired elf near a tent, where he stood by a table with a map of the local area spread out before him. Elrond was busy pointing out important things to his troops, using the map to support his points.

“This area will be difficult to defend, but it has few natural defenses and will be an ideal spot for the orcs to attempt to flank us. Make sure it is well guarded and that any forces nearby are prepared to assist should there be a breech in our defenses.” The officers agreed and moved off to do their jobs. Meanwhile, several scouts stepped forward and began offering reports to Elrond. Thranduil simply fell in beside them and waited for them to finish. 

Somehow, he had forgotten that he wore a helmet and that Elrond had no idea he was there. So when Elrond turned to him, his heart sored, but then nearly stopped when Elrond greeted him with a single terse, “Yes?”

He stared for a second. “Ah…yes, good to see you too.”

Elrond blinked, then frowned. “Well? Have you no report for me?”

“Should I?” Thranduil asked. “Elrond, look who you’re speaking to.”

The look of sheer horror on Elrond’s face when he realized who was speaking to him was almost enough to break Thranduil’s heart “Thranduil…” Elrond breathed. He grabbed his lover by the elbow and dragged him off into the tent, which was empty at the moment. “What are you doing here? You should be resting in the castle!”

Thranduil sighed. “But I can’t just stay in bed at a time like this! Just a few days ago we were talking about how there weren’t enough warriors here.”

 

“And I hardly intended for you to become one of them when you were almost on your death bed not so long ago,” Elrond said, taking Thranduil by the shoulders. 

“Well, it’s too late for me to turn around and go back, love,” Thranduil said, “so you’re just going to have to put up with my presence.”

Elrond sighed and glanced at the tent entrance, then pulled Thranduil into a quick, tight hug before finally letting him go. “You’re right, of course. But I want you to stay by my side during the battle, if you can. I…I will feel better if I know where you are and can keep an eye on you myself.”

Thranduil smiled and brushed his fingertips over Elrond’s cheek. “Honestly, I’m looking forward to fighting beside you. I think we’ll make quite a team.”

Elrond grinned and clapped his shoulder. “We should let Gil-galad know you’re here.”

“Must we?” Thranduil sighed. “I’m wearing a helmet precisely so others cannot identify me.”

“Well, fine then, we can skip it for now. But if you get injured again I will tell him who you are, and you will have to accept his help.”

“Won’t be the first time, that’s for certain,” Thranduil said.

*** *** ***

The orcs attacked almost as soon as night fell, swarming out of the forests and onto the plain where Gil-galad’s forces had gathered to meet them. The battle was short, but brutal, and it had barely begun when Elrond became painfully aware that they would be returning home with the dead as well as the wounded and the living this time. Every time someone near him fell, his heart skipped a beat, and whenever he could he spared a glance to his right, where Thranduil had taken up his post. He was always relieved to see that no matter how many fell, there was Thranduil, standing as solid as a deep-rooted tree beside him, fighting off the orcs with all his might.

And by the Valar, could he fight.

He preferred to wield a sword in each hand, and at first glance it seemed that he just lashed out at the attacking orcs with little aim or precision. But whenever Elrond could spare some attention, he would watch, and he soon noticed that Thranduil’s slashing attack was hardly as random as it seemed. He had an uncanny knack for targeting his opponent’s weak spots and more than one orc lost its head to a ruthless slash at its neck, while others took stabs under the arms or at whatever other weak spots Thranduil spotted. Orcs who tried to flank him found themselves just as easily defeated as those who came at him from the front, and found that the blond elf didn’t even have to look at them to take them out. Somehow, he just seemed to know they were there, and knew what he needed to do to defeat them. Every so often an orc did manage to get a blow through, but the damage done was minor and Thranduil often found ways to use their attacks to his advantage. 

By the time the battle was over, the orcs were defeated, and Elrond was quite certain that Thranduil had been personally responsible for cutting a rather large swathe through their forces. He wanted to speak to Thranduil, but duty called, and first he had to report to Gil-galad. But as soon as he finished, he left the tent and cut across the battlefield until he found Thranduil, helmet still on, sitting under a tree and once again eating lembas and drinking water he had gotten from someone else. He smiled as Elrond sat next to him and offered him a bit of both, which Elrond took gratefully.

“Are you going to tell me how you learned to fight like that?” Elrond asked.

Thranduil chewed his lembas thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes…when I tell you about that time I almost died. They are quite intimately connected.”

“I find it hard to believe that death would have come so close to you had you fought like that at the time.”

“I didn’t know how to fight then,” Thranduil said. “I learned after.” He turned to look at Elrond and added, “But I’m not going to tell you the story here. You’re going to have to wait until we’re back at the castle.”

Elrond nodded. “Of course. I can be patient.” He smiled and gave Thranduil’s thigh a gentle pat, then dragged himself back to his feet. “Now then, I should go help with the final clean-up and preparations for our leaving. If I don’t see you here again, I’ll see you back at the castle.”

*** *** ***

Over the next two weeks, the castle was abuzz with news of orcish incursions into Lindon. Even the upcoming festivals of the season weren’t enough to distract the denizens of the castle, or those who lived around it. Elrond was constantly busy. If he wasn’t performing guard duty, he was helping the healers, sitting on the council, or even running errands for Gil-galad. It was exhausting and stressful, both for him and for Thranduil, who struggled with his need for Elrond’s company. He understood why Elrond was so busy, but that didn’t make the separation from his beloved any less painful.

In an effort to occupy himself, Thranduil took to daydreaming about the time he spent with Elrond, imagining in very fine detail their many conversations and the hours they had spent curled up in his bed while he healed. Elrond’s presence in those days had been nothing but sweetly comforting and just a touch romantic, and Thranduil sorely missed it. He often snuggled with pillows at night now, though of course they were nothing like Elrond himself. And sometimes, when he was alone and his thoughts really got carried away, he would run his hands over his body and remember that day when they had touched each other so…intimately. That was really the only way he could describe it. Others had hugged him, particularly his father and Galion. Oropher liked to sometimes kiss him on the forehead, too, in a fatherly sort of way. And certainly healers had touched him in ways and places that others never did. But with Elrond, it was different. It was a touch born entirely out of warmth and love, gentleness…and desire. Something Thranduil was so very unfamiliar with, at least when it came to desiring people, but something he found himself experiencing more and more as he grew closer to Elrond.

And of course there had been the way Elrond touched him between his legs. Never had anyone done such a thing. Never had he imagined that a touch like that would feel so pleasurable and intimate at the same time. It had been quite overwhelming, really, and he found that words couldn’t adequately describe what he had felt in those moments, with Elrond’s hand on him there and Elrond’s lips on his…

Vaguely, he wondered if this was the sort of thing Galion had had in mind when he had mentioned to Thranduil that he was more experienced. 

Finally, after days of frustration and uncertainty and a desperate needy ache in every inch of his body that just refused to go away, Thranduil flopped down on his bed and sighed, staring at his ceiling. He lay there like that, legs dangling off the side, until the stretch that position produced in his back proved too uncomfortable, and he crawled into the center of his bed where he could lay in a nest of comfortable pillows and blankets. The one pillow beside him still smelled like Elrond, clean and somewhat earthy, and he smiled at the familiar scent. He let his eyes flutter shut and breathed deeply, imagining Elrond curled up beside him again, and as he remembered his beautiful lover he began to run his own hands over his body, trying to simulate the feeling of Elrond’s touch. It was almost impossible, of course – where Elrond’s hands were very strong and somewhat calloused, Thranduil’s were much more delicate and soft with nary a callous to be seen or felt – but the sensations were still welcome and still fueled his daydreams. 

His fingertip drew light trails up his sides and across his stomach, up to his chest. One hand he pressed flat over his heart, and the other he drew along the side of his neck, all the way up until he could trace the pointed shell of his ear with one fingertip, making himself shiver a little as he touched the surprisingly sensitive area. His hand moved down once more, over his cheek and his throat, back to his chest, and once more to his sides. He rested his hands on his hips for a moment – Elrond seemed to like doing that – before bending his legs up and slowly dragging his hands down their sides, almost to his knees. He paused there, concentrating for a moment on the feeling of his own muscles under his hands, then slowly allowed his legs to fall open and, with his fingertips, traced a path along his inner thighs up to his crotch. Thranduil bit his lip and let out a sharp exhalation of pleasure when he found pleasantly sensitive spots inside his thighs, and gently stroked and rubbed the areas with his hands. And all the while, he could feel a strange heat and tension gathering in the pit of his stomach, and felt his leggings growing distinctly tighter. Finally, he allowed one hand to come to rest on the bulge between his legs, a soft moan of pleasure escaping his lips as his hips rocked up, pushing himself into his own touch.

“Oh, Elrond,” he murmured, trying to remember and imitate the way his lover had touched him that day, the way that had felt so good when it happened. But somehow he couldn’t get it quite right. And besides, as much as he was enjoying this, he found himself wanting more. He groaned in impatience and struggled to open his leggings, fingers of both hands fumbling with the buttons and ties that kept everything in place, then let out a happy and triumphant “Yes” when he finally got them undone and squirmed until his leggings were pushed down around his thighs, finally exposing his hard length to the air and to his touch. He hesitated – what was he supposed to do now? Having never before done this on purpose, and having never seen others do it or heard them talk of it, he wasn’t at all sure. Slowly, carefully, as though he expected to hurt himself with a wrong move, he brushed his hand over the underside of his shaft, drawing a throaty groan from himself. Valar, that felt nice. He repeated the motion, moving his hand up the shaft with excruciating slowness and imagining that it was Elrond’s hand, not his own, causing him such pleasure. Thranduil touched his fingers to the tip of his rigid length, circling it and feeling the liquid gathering there. That bought him up short for a moment – what was it? He had never noticed such a thing before…but he soon decided that it was harmless, and not something he was interested in worrying about just now anyway.

Something was building in him, something strong and wild, and he knew that sooner or later something would have to give. Tentatively, he closed his hand around his member and gave a firm stroke. The feeling made him cry out, a low keen of pleasure that seemed to echo in his room and his own mind, and he repeated the motion. Moans and whimpers of pleasure came with each stroke, each touch, and he gripped the bed sheets with his free hand, twisting them in his grasp. “E-Elrond…” he moaned, lost deep in the fantasy of his beloved’s touch. “I…I…oh, Elrond, ai!” he cried as the tension that had been building within him finally snapped, sending waves of incredible warmth and pleasure coursing through him. His entire body shook as he released, spilling his seed all over his hand and stomach. 

As he began to calm down and the feelings of pleasure subsided, he opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling, chest still heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Whatever that had been…he had no words to explain it, not really, and nothing with which to compare it. But it had been wonderful, possibly the best thing he had experienced on his own to date, and he wanted nothing more than to share it with his love. But not yet. Not just yet. There were other things to do first.

At some point it dawned on him that he had made a bit of a mess. Thranduil rolled out of bed and made his way into his bathroom, where he found a clean towel and some water left in a basin from his morning routine and used them to clean the sticky fluid from his body. Once satisfied that he was clean, he returned to his room to write Elrond a letter. Now that he knew the pleasure he could extract from his own body, he was indeed eager to share it with Elrond…but first, he had a story to tell, and Elrond’s reaction to it would determine whether or not Thranduil ever gifted him with intimate physical pleasures.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter, I use ~~~ to signal section breaks instead of *** like usual because the different section of this is a flashback/memory. Just wanted to mention that to make sure it's clear :)

Elrond had no idea why Thranduil had chosen such a dark, dirty, and all-around awful place for their meeting as the tiny room in the basement of the castle. The place was full of dust and cobwebs, with nothing more than a table (partly rotten, Elrond noted) and some rickety boxes to fill it. It just didn’t seem like the kind of place he would even know about, let alone want to visit…Thranduil was so cheerful and loving in Elrond’s eyes, and this place seemed to drain all of that from the very air, from his heart. Why would Thranduil ever want to be here?

He turned as the door opened and Thranduil stepped inside, carrying a single lit candle with him. He smiled in relief at the sight of Elrond and quickly put the candle down before going to embrace him and kiss him. Elrond cradled Thranduil close, reveling in the feeling of being able to just hold him again, and his heart ached when Thranduil finally pulled away.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Thranduil said softly. Even as quiet as he had been, though, his voice sounded shockingly loud in the tiny, deeply silent room.

“Why are we here, anyway?” Elrond asked. “It seems…terribly unpleasant.”

“It is,” Thranduil agree. “But so is what I’m going to tell you. And honestly, many times when I even think about this, it’s just…so real for me…and down here nobody can hear me scream. Nobody except you will hear if things go bad for me. There won’t be any guards coming running to see what’s going on. I learned the hard way that I need to tell the story in a place like this.”

“Is it really that bad?” Elrond asked.

Thranduil looked around until he found a pair of boxes for them to sit on. He dragged them over and settled onto one, sending up puffs of dust all around him as he did. “It’s quite awful, yes,” he said, motioning for Elrond to sit on the other box. He waited for the other elf to get settled, then reached out and took his hand, holding it far harder than Elrond ever remember Thranduil holding his hand before.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said.

“No, I really do,” Thranduil said. “Now…where to begin…well, I suppose you’re quite familiar with the War of Wrath.”

“Of course,” Elrond said. “It was my father who joined with the Eagles and slew the dragon Ancalagon in that war.”

Thranduil blinked at him, then tilted his head and grinned. “Was it really? All this time I had no idea!”

“I barely remember it myself,” Elrond said. “I wasn’t yet grown when it happened and I was nowhere near the fighting.”

“You were lucky,” Thranduil said grimly. “I had become an adult several years previously and my father believed that meant I should participate in the war if the opportunity presented itself. For the most part he kept me to the back lines, but…well, dragons don’t need to worry about lines, do they?”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Thranduil would have been quite proud of himself for surviving this far, if he had any time for such things as feeling proud. But it took every ounce of concentration he had to keep battling off the orcs. It didn’t help that his attention was split now, either. He had long since lost track of his father, but his mother was just behind him, and though she continued to fight valiantly, she was injured. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave her behind.

“We should leave the field!” she called to him.

“And go where?” he replied. The effort it took to listen to her and answer her nearly cost him an injury, as an attacking orc took advantage of his lack of attention and stabbed at his unguarded side. Thranduil managed to block the blow – barely. It took an arrow from some unknown ally to take the orc down and save Thranduil’s life, though.

“I need a healer,” he heard his mother say. “Or I fear I will not survive this fight.”

Thranduil glanced around desperately, but there were no healers to be seen. He had no idea where to go to find one, or if any were even still alive, or if they would be able to help his mother, or…He took a few shuddering gasps and tried to calm down. He was the son of a noble, it wouldn’t do for him to fall apart in his first major fight, especially not when his mother’s life might depend on him keeping a cool head. But that was becoming more and more impossible with each passing moment.

Finally, he just decided to pick a direction and hope for the best. He turned and motioned for his mother to follow. “This way!” She followed behind him quite obediently, and both elves made quick work of any orcs that attacked them.

But suddenly, a great shadow passed by overhead, and Thranduil, his mother, and those battling around them all looked up to see what had happened. A great dragon, all gnashing teeth and massive wings and horrible, impenetrable black scales, swooped down on a portion of the fighters quite far from Thranduil, and within moments every soldier in its path was incinerated in a blast of its fiery breath. The dragon wheeled in the air and bore down on the same spot, breathing more fire and fanning the flames with its leathery wings. Thranduil felt frozen to the spot – had his father been there? What if Oropher was dead now? But that couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be, what would he ever do without his father?

And then he watched in sheer terror as the dragon pulled itself back up into the sky and came right back towards them.

“Run!” he shouted, and all around him people scattered in every direction. He didn’t think it was possible to run from a dragon, but it was better than just sitting still and waiting for the creature to attack. Wasn’t it?

Thranduil took his own advice and ran, but he didn’t make it very far before he heard someone fall behind him with a thud and a loud “Oof!” He paused and turned, and felt his heart stop. His mother. As he rushed back to her side, she pushed herself up a little to look at him. They both reached out to the other –

\-- The sound was like nothing he had ever heard before. A raw, animal scream of pain and fear, and it seemed to surround and consume him. And there was the heat, oh Valar, the heat. And then nothing, just the screaming. He wished that whoever or whatever was making that noise would stop, because without that sound to distract him he might have a chance at doing something about the pain crashing in waves across the left side of his body and face…the agony was just awful, and he wanted to scream too, only to realize that he already was screaming and Valar was he really the one making that noise, and why couldn’t he see anything at all what had happened to his eyes? 

He tried to reach up to touch his face, but he wasn’t sure that his left arm moved at all and a hand grabbed his right wrist rather roughly, preventing him from moving it any further. Thranduil tried to form words, tried to ask what had happened and who the person touching him was and whether or not his mother was safe, but it didn’t seem like he could. He felt himself being moved and that just made the pain so much worse, but try as he might to beg whoever it was to stop moving him, they just kept doing what they were doing. At some point, Thranduil must have lost consciousness, and the next thing he was aware of was his father’s voice calling to him…and a voice that was less familiar, but somehow reassuring. He reached out to the voices, struggling to return to where they were, but then the pain and the heat and worst of all the screaming came back and he just couldn’t return to that no matter how they begged him…

…Over and over again the process went on, until finally, there was no more screaming, and the heat wasn’t so bad, and he could even tolerate the pain…

Eventually, he opened his eyes…no, his eye, just the right one…and could make out light and dark and some blurry shapes. He heard Oropher’s voice, horribly raspy but still recognizable, thanking the Valar that his son had woken up and then asking him how he felt. Terrible, he said, or tried to, but it didn’t work. But his father seemed to understand. He kissed Thranduil’s right cheek and clasped his right hand tightly (funny, hadn’t he noticed that his right eye was the only one open?), and told Thranduil over and over that he would be fine. Back to normal in no time, my son. 

But where was his mother? Why wasn’t she there? She had been injured. Would she be back to normal in no time too? Would she? Well? Why wouldn’t anyone tell him what had happened to her?

…Weeks passed, it seemed. Maybe it was only days, or hours. Maybe it was months. Thranduil didn’t know. He only knew that he wanted answers. Wanted to know where his mother was, why nobody seemed to want to touch his left side, why half of his face was hidden in bandages. Why he had been in so much pain. Why he had screamed like that. Oropher wouldn’t tell him, though. He would only come into the room where his son lay confined to a bed, and hold Thranduil’s hand (always the right one, never the left) and reassure him through tears and sobs that he would be back to normal in no time.

Finally, one day, he had another visitor, a man he recognized almost immediately as Gil-galad. The king looked on him with great sorrow, but also great compassion, and finally Thranduil had answers to his questions.

He didn’t care for any of them.

No, his mother hadn’t survived, and they had found no sign of her. How Thranduil had survived nobody really knew. But he had been lucky. The burns were awful and it had taken everything Oropher, Gil-galad, and a whole host of healers had to keep him alive. Unfortunately, they could make no promises about his body or his face. They were pleased that the sight in his right eye seemed to be normal again. His left eye, well, they didn’t know if he would ever see from it again. Thranduil asked to see his injuries. Gil-galad hesitated, and told him that his father didn’t think he should see. Even telling Thranduil all of these things had been a risk, as Oropher had been hesitating to tell him anything. Thranduil pointed out that he was a grown elf and surely he deserved to know what he would be living with from now on, didn’t he? Gil-galad agreed, and called for some healers to help him, and had a mirror brought. They took the blankets from Thranduil’s bed and removed the bandages from his body, starting with his left leg and moving up, until they finally unwrapped his face. And then Gil-galad himself helped Thranduil turn to the mirror.

His screams and sobs practically woke the entire camp, and Oropher probably would have killed Gil-galad right then and there had Thranduil not begged him to spare the king’s life, and not told him over and over that he needed his father. The healers made them both wait until Thranduil’s wounds were properly re-bandaged, and only then did they allow Oropher to hug his son. And he did, quite tightly. But he still wouldn’t touch the left side of Thranduil’s face.

Thranduil didn’t know how long he lived away from people after that. Perhaps for years, or longer, he refused to leave his chambers, refused to open his curtains, refused even to look at himself in a mirror. For a long time, he even pushed his dear friend Galion away, not wanting the younger elf to suffer from the sight of him. But slowly, with regular visits from all the best healers (his father only ever got the best for his son, after all), the injuries healed and the scars began to fade. Thranduil learned how to create illusions to mask what remained of the scars, and finally began to emerge from his chambers. By the time he got to Lindon with his father, the scars were gone.

Well, the physical ones, at any rate.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

As Thranduil had told the story, Elrond had watched in horrified fascination as his face changed, revealing his horribly injured left cheek and blind left eye. He remembered Thranduil mentioning illusions – was this an illusion? He scooted closer to Thranduil, who eyed him warily, and reached out to gently touch the edge of the scar. “Is this real?” he whispered. “Does it hurt?”

Thranduil sniffled and wiped viciously at his nose. “Not…really real, no. It’s a reflection of my spirit, or something like that. Gil-galad explains it better. But it still hurts. Oh Valar, it hurts, and now it’s going to be a while before it goes away…”

“How do you get rid of it?” Elrond asked, leaning to the side so he could study the injury better.

Thranduil shoved him away. “So that’s it, then, you’re just like everyone else, nobody can bear to look at it and you just want it gone –“

“Valar, Thranduil!” Elrond exclaimed. The pure exasperation in his voice brought the blond elf up short. “Why is it that you can’t believe you’re more than a pretty face to me?” He grumbled and climbed back onto his box, then reached out and pulled Thranduil close, holding him so that his uninjured cheek was on Elrond’s shoulder. “I’m not asking so I don’t have to look at it, I’m asking so it won’t hurt you anymore.”

Thranduil clung to Elrond, the combined physical pain, stress of telling his story, and sorrow of his memories reducing him to true tears for the first time in a long while. “I don’t know…I’m just so used to that, I guess…”

Elrond gently kissed his forehead, just above his injured eye. “So how did Galion get back in your good graces?” he whispered. “And you know he cares for you no matter what, don’t you?”

Thranduil nodded. “He forced his way back in, I suppose. When we were children we used to sleep in the same bed, sometimes, and we would always pull the blankets up over our head and hold hands in the dark and just talk. One night after I started to heal I woke up, and he was there, and he just…took my hand – the left one, the injured one – and once he knew it didn’t hurt he just started talking to me like we always used to.”

“He’s a good friend. You’re lucky to have him,” Elrond said. He kissed Thranduil’s face again, this time on the temple. “And this is when your father started restricting your freedom…”

“Yes. He seems to think it will save my life somehow…”

Elrond nodded a bit and reached up to trace his finger along the shell of Thranduil’s ear. “And your fighting style?”

“Gil-galad found someone who could teach me to fight even with a blind eye, in case I ever needed to again.” Thranduil sniffled and squirmed into a more comfortable position. “I think he just wanted to give me something to do. Nobody ever thought I would go out in public or fight again for a long time. And I can see from both eyes now, too, so in the end I didn’t need the special training…” He finally pulled away from Elrond and sat up again, though he wouldn’t meet the other’s gaze. “So now you know. My big, deep secret,” he said.

“I do,” Elrond said. He reached out and gently ran a hand through Thranduil’s hair, eventually resting his hand on the back of Thranduil’s head and waiting patiently for the blond elf to look at him again. “And I still want nothing more than to be with you.” He leaned forward for a kiss. At first, it didn’t seem like Thranduil would respond in kind, but he did close his eyes and lean towards Elrond, reaching out to take the other’s free hand in both of his own as their lips met. Elrond kept the kiss gentle and light, since he was afraid of causing Thranduil more pain, but when he broke the kiss he realized he shouldn’t have worried. By the time he sat up again, the last bit of the scar was fading away, and aside from the tears on his cheeks, Thranduil looked very much back to normal. 

Thranduil hesitantly reached up and touched his own cheek. “Is it gone?” he asked, and when Elrond nodded in confirmation, he said, “I don’t think it’s ever gone away so quickly before…”

“How many of those times have you had someone there to help you through it?” Elrond asked softly, reaching out to stroke Thranduil’s left cheek.

“Not many,” Thranduil admitted. He tilted his head until his cheek pressed against Elrond’s palm, and smiled. “Thank you. For…for everything you do for me.”


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!

Summer went by quickly, sped on by a flurry of festivals and events culminating in the annual Feast of Starlight, for which Elrond luckily was not expected to serve as a guard. Mere days before the festival, he received a gift and a note from Thranduil.

My love,

Something small for you to wear as you will, though I hope to see it at the feast. Know that I would give you the stars themselves if I could.

All my love,  
Thranduil

The gift itself was a brooch of antique gold, and though the ornate scrollwork served to somewhat obscure the shape, Elrond felt that it was rather heart-like. It was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever owned, and made all the more precious because of who it came from. He put it away safely to keep it as a surprise until the feast. Though he usually wasn’t one to spend a lot of time worrying about his outfits or his looks, for once he took the time to choose a feast outfit that would show off his new brooch.

The night of the feast found Elrond fielding compliments on his brooch right and left, but none made him quite so happy as seeing the slight blush on Thranduil’s cheeks when he noticed that Elrond had indeed worn his gift. They danced together many times that night, and returned to Thranduil’s chambers together at the end of the feast, though by then they were both so tired and had drunk so much wine that all they could do was curl up in each other’s arms and sleep.

As summer turned to autumn, a messenger finally arrived from Oropher, bearing summons for Thranduil. The previously sunny and cheerful day suddenly turned dark for Thranduil and Elrond, who finally had to face their first real separation. Unlike Elrond’s trip to Mithlond with Gil-galad early in their relationship, when Elrond had fully known that he would return to the castle in a matter of weeks, they both knew that there was no return for Thranduil. When he left Lindon for the Greenwood, it would be for good.

“We will always have letters,” Elrond said as they walked through the halls together. With their time so short now, they had thrown as much caution to the wind as they dared and had become much less shy about being seen together in public. “I know it’s not a substitute for being together…”

“You have your duties and I have mine,” Thranduil said. He had been repeating that over and over since the letter from his father arrived, as though trying to convince himself of something. “We have no choice in this. But nothing says you must stay here forever, right? You can’t be a herald forever. You could come to the Greenwood someday. You can visit me, and I you, wherever you are.”

Elrond finally stopped and turned to face Thranduil, taking his hands. “But we will never see so much of each other again, Thranduil. Not for a long time. …Can you live with that?”

“I must,” Thranduil said, searching Elrond’s face for some sign that he felt the same. “I love you and you are my soul mate…I must live with this and get through it until the time comes when we can be together all the time. …Don’t you feel the same? You’re not regretting this, are you?”

Elrond smiled fondly at him, then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his left cheek. “Never,” he said. “I just want to be sure we both understand what we’re getting into.”

“I do understand,” Thranduil said. He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Elrond’s hands. “Elrond…it’s my last night in Lindon tonight. I leave in the morning. Come stay with me tonight, please? Galion is going to be saying goodbye to his friends so I’ll be alone otherwise…”

“Of course. How could I ever say no to a request like that?”

Thranduil grinned slyly at him. “Come in time for dinner and we can even eat together…”

“Mm, I do like the sound of that. Alright then.” Elrond gave his hands a firm squeeze before letting them go. “I have some things to attend to, then. I’ll see you tonight.”

*** *** ***

It was the most painfully awkward dinner Elrond had ever had, and he had had some incredibly awkward dinners in his relatively young life. The food was delicious (as it always was in Gil-galad’s castle) and the company beautiful and charming (as always when he was with Thranduil), but still, it was such an awkward dinner. They both picked at their food, barely speaking or even looking at each other, and Elrond could have sworn that Thranduil nearly broke down in tears at one point. It was hard to ignore the few remaining chests, still not entirely packed, into which the last of Thranduil’s possessions would go before he left the next morning, or the fact that Thranduil’s sitting room was now almost entirely devoid of his personal touch. 

Finally, he simply dropped his fork and sighed. “Thranduil, what are we doing here?” When the blond elf just gave him a confused look, he added, “Neither one of us want to be sitting here eating dinner…so why are we doing this? I know what I would prefer to do with you…what about you? Is this really what you want?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No of course not, but I thought you would be hungry after working all day. …I thought I would be too, but…well.”

Elrond just smiled and pushed back from the table, then rose and went to stand beside Thranduil, offering him his hands. “Come then,” he said as Thranduil stood. “I want nothing more than for you to be in my arms, and to hold you for the rest of the night.”

Thranduil’s arms went around his neck, and they kissed, a slow and gentle meeting of their lips. Elrond slipped his arms around Thranduil’s waist and pressed the other’s strong and slender body against his own, reveling in the feeling of Thranduil’s fingers in his hair and the honey-sweet taste of his kisses and the faint flowery scent that clung to him. Elrond nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a soft, “Ooh…” of pleasure from his beloved, then broke the kiss and pulled back to look at Thranduil. The blond elf’s eyes were still closed, his cheeks pink and his lips just the tiniest bit reddened from their kisses. Elrond reached up and brushed Thranduil’s lower lip with the pad of his finger and Thranduil’s eyes fluttered open. They sparkled in the room’s dim lighting, and for a moment Elrond thought he saw a glint of mischief there – and then Thranduil flicked the tip of his tongue against Elrond’s finger and smirked. His lips were still parted as Elrond pulled him back in, and Thranduil happily allowed Elrond’s demanding mouth to cover his own, tightening his hand in Elrond’s hair as the other’s tongue hesitantly explored his mouth. For what felt like an Age, Elrond was simply lost in Thranduil’s arms and mouth, feeling for all the world like nothing more existed than his tender touches and sweet kisses. When Thranduil finally broke their kiss, Elrond let out a soft huff of disappointment.

“Join me in my bed?” Thranduil breathed, his hand already wandering towards the hem of Elrond’s tunic. Before Elrond had a chance to answer, those long, delicate fingers reached the hem and lifted it carefully, slipping under the thin fabric to ghost against the skin of his back. 

Elrond shuddered. “What do you plan for us there?” he asked, voice betraying his sudden wariness. He had long dreamt of the moment when they would lay together, with nothing between them, and share the full intimacy of lovers…but he had long ago learned that dreams often came well before one was truly ready to act on them. Was he ready to act on this one?

But Thranduil allayed his fears. “Only the touch of hands on bare skin,” he whispered against Elrond’s neck. “And perhaps the intimate touch you showed me when last we explored each other…”

He had to think for a moment to remember what Thranduil meant, but then the images of Thranduil’s body arching as he laid his hand over the other’s crotch burst into his memory, and Elrond could feel his cheeks burning as he thought of it. He nodded and turned his head to place a gentle kiss on Thranduil’s ear. “Lead me,” he said, his voice already going rough with desire.

Thranduil let go of him and made for his bedroom, glancing back over his shoulder to see that Elrond followed. Like the sitting room, the bedroom too was full of half-packed chests and personal possessions strewn out of place. But here, not a single candle lit the way. The only light (a surprisingly bright light) came from the moonlight and starlight streaming in through the uncovered windows. Elrond stayed in the doorway and watched Thranduil for a few moments. The young noble – or perhaps he was already a prince now – was absolutely made for this kind of light, which seemed to make his pale skin and hair glow even more than normal for an elf, and made his eyes sparkle even more brightly than they usually did. But Elrond didn’t have long to admire his lover, for Thranduil turned and beckoned to him with an outstretched hand, and in moments they were together once more, hands and mouths fighting for dominance as they embraced and kissed with an almost fierce power. Elrond sucked in a shuddering breath when he felt Thranduil’s hands working at the buttons on his tunic, and before he knew it those deft fingers had undone every button. Elrond shrugged out of his tunic and shivered a little as the cool air touched his freshly-bare skin before helping Thranduil with his own clothes, making quick work of his long robe and his leggings. With his clothes off and tossed aside, Thranduil pulled away from him and went to lay on the bed with a soft sigh, smiling shyly up at Elrond, bending his long legs in such a way that they hid his most private area from view.

Elrond chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his own leggings. “Going shy on me now, are you?” he asked. “…Having second thoughts?”

“No second thoughts,” Thranduil replied, voice almost quivering with need. “But a bit shy…you’re the first to see me like this.”

“Nude, you mean?” Elrond asked. He was surprised – healers had seen Thranduil naked, and he was sure others (Galion almost certainly among them) had as well.

“No, I mean…this isn’t like when the servants dress me or the healers are fixing injuries,” Thranduil replied. “I feel like my whole soul is bare to you, not just my body.”

Leggings finally off, Elrond moved until he was lying beside Thranduil. They just watched each other for a moment, eyes memorizing everything they could about each other’s faces, and then Thranduil reached out to rest his hand on Elrond’s cheek. Elrond smiled and draped an arm over Thranduil, pressing his hand to the other’s back and stroking the soft skin there. “I’m honored you chose to share all of this with me,” he whispered. “Honored and blessed.”

It was Thranduil’s turn to chuckle now. “You more than earned it, my love,” he whispered back, and let his hand slide down over Elrond’s neck and shoulder to rest on his chest, where he could feel the way Elrond’s chest rose and fell as his breathing became more labored. Thranduil watched Elrond’s face as he began to trace his fingers over taught muscles beneath smooth skin. The pad of his thumb brushed over one of Elrond’s nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from the brown-haired elf. Thranduil leaned his head closer and captured Elrond’s mouth in a gentle kiss, catching the other’s lower lip between his own. He continued to rub his thumb over the rapidly hardening nub, thoroughly enjoying the little sighs and moans his touch pulled from his lover.

Elrond sighed quite happily against Thranduil’s lips and slowly moved his hand to Thranduil’s side, then his hip, and finally down to rub his thigh, massaging the firm muscles he felt there beneath impossibly soft skin. Thranduil gasped a little and bent his leg up so that his knee rested on Elrond’s hip, and Elrond found himself running his hand up and down along the back of Thranduil’s leg. “Valar, Thranduil, your legs are gorgeous,” he murmured between kisses. “Why do you hide them with those robes of yours?”

“Mmm, well, if I let everyone see them, I would never get anything done because I would be even more mobbed with admirers,” Thranduil teased, placing a quick kiss on Elrond’s nose.

“Ah, we can’t have that. I would never have a moment with you then,” Elrond said. He kept stroking Thranduil’s thigh, until Thranduil raised his head and began showering light kisses and even the occasional hesitant lick along his neck and shoulder. Each kiss seemed to sear into his skin and turn his very blood to fire. He lay quite still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of Thranduil’s lips and tongue on him, then brought his hand to rest on the other’s hip once more and whispered to him, “May I touch you again?”

Thranduil pulled back to look at him, cheeks turning bright red as he realized what Elrond was asking, but he nodded. “And…may I…?”

“Of course,” Elrond replied. He shifted his body a bit so that Thranduil would be able to reach, and as Thranduil straightened his leg again, Elrond brought his hand to rest gently on Thranduil’s already-hardening member. His partner gasped, then let out a deep, throaty moan as Elrond closed his hand around the hard length and began to work it in slow, steady strokes.

“E-elrond,” he moaned. “I…” Thranduil gulped and drew a deep breath, “I did this once…myself…and thought of you…I dreamt of you…”

Elrond kissed him and murmured softly in his ear. “I did the same…and I longed for it to be real…”

Thranduil nodded a little and finally returned to his senses enough to slide his hand down Elrond’s torso and make his first hesitant contact with Elrond’s own length. It was surprisingly hot and heavy in his hand, thicker than his own, and he almost pulled his hand away for fear of being unable to please his love as much as Elrond pleased him. But then he heard Elrond’s pleading whisper of “Yes, love,” in his ear, and he wrapped his hand around the velvety shaft to stroke in time with the way Elrond touched him.

“Ai, Elrond, yes,” Thranduil whispered. “I…oooh, yes…I needed this with you…”

Elrond just nodded, unable to speak as he focused on the feeling of Thranduil’s gentle fingers around him. It was even better than he had imagined it being, so warm and tender, far better than his own touch…and before he knew it, long before he wanted to, he could feel the buildup of heat in his belly signaling that his release was near. He tightened his grip on Thranduil’s length and heard the other cry out sharply in response. “Thranduil…” he rasped. “Don’t hold back for me…” It seemed to be all the encouragement the blond elf needed, for just as Elrond stopped speaking, his back arched and he came on Elrond’s hand, his body shuddering with the intensity of it. Elrond wiped his hand clean on Thranduil’s hip and reached up to hold the back of his head, capturing his mouth in a deep and desperate kiss, and then he too came hard, his hips jerking as he thrust into Thranduil’s hand. Thranduil let out the tiniest whisper of a whimper against Elrond’s mouth and wrapped his arm loosely around Elrond’s waist, then broke the kiss so he had a chance to catch his breath.

Thranduil had just about dozed off when he felt Elrond raining tiny kisses on his cheek – the left cheek, the one he had been so frightened to show Elrond. The side Elrond had been kissing on purpose so often lately. He opened his eyes and gazed into his lover’s deep grey ones and smiled, reaching up to gently stroke Elrond’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“How I love you, Thranduil Oropherion,” Elrond whispered. He took Thranduil’s hand in his own and turned his attention to kissing every inch of it instead, making sure that his lips touched the palm and each fingertip in turn. Thranduil laughed a little. The kisses tickled but also sent a great wave of warmth flowing through him.

“And I love you, Elrond,” he whispered back. “You will hold my heart forever.”


	17. Chapter 16

The morning Thranduil left Lindon dawned bright and sunny, with no clouds to mar the perfect early-autumn sky and with the red and gold of the first trees to turn adding a touch of decadence to the scene. Elrond was grateful that he had spent the night with Thranduil and had been able to rise before dawn with him. They had shared a warm bath, and then he had helped Thranduil dress while Galion packed the last few chests, and finally they had had some time for a final good-bye. And now, Elrond stood with Gil-galad to watch as Thranduil, Galion, and those of his father’s followers who had remained in Lindon to tend to him worked their way through the crowds that had gathered to see him off. Thranduil rode at the head of the column, dressed in silvers and greys and mounted on a white horse. He looked straight ahead, for the most part, only granting the smallest nods of acknowledgement to the well-wishers surrounding him and his entourage. As he rode through the courtyard and out the gates, the sounds of people wailing and sobbing reached Elrond’s ears. 

It made him feel sick.

“I cannot take this,” he muttered, clenching his hand around the ceremonial spear he was required to hold as part of his duties at Gil-galad’s side on occasions such as this.

“I know you do not wish to be separated from him, but this will not be permanent,” Gil-galad replied just as quietly. “In fact, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the moment he writes to let you know of his arrival in the Greenwood, you are free to visit him for a time. I’ll call it a diplomatic mission, and you shall be my ambassador.”

“I thank you for your kindness and consideration, my lord, but that is not what I meant,” Elrond said. He glanced over to see the king giving him a curious look, so he added, “Those people down there, wailing because Thranduil is leaving…it makes me sick. Those are the ones who were here for so long before me and yet they never managed to get close to him. They never heard his secrets or held him in their arms. They never saw the real, warm smile or heard his true laugh. They never saw him as more than a party host and a pretty face…and yet this is how they react when he leaves?”

“Ah,” Gil-galad said, and he nodded sadly. “I understand now. Yes, I know how much it frustrated and hurt Thranduil. But in the end I think it was for the best.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it certainly created a stark contrast with you and your treatment of him. I think being able to compare you to such shallow behavior only highlighted what a quality individual you are.”

Elrond fought the smile that Gil-galad’s words caused. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I hope I can live up to the way you both see me.”

At that moment, Thranduil drew to a stop just before the gate and turned his horse to look at the spot where Gil-galad and Elrond stood. He pressed his hand to his chest just over his heart and bowed, then sat up straight once more and turned to exit the gate, never once looking back.

“I’m quite sure that was just as much for you as it was for me,” Gil-galad said to Elrond.

Elrond nodded a little. “Even if it wasn’t, I’ll keep telling myself that it was.”

*** *** ***

The weeks dragged by in loneliness and boredom for Elrond, who sorely missed Thranduil’s company. By the time the third week of Thranduil’s absence rolled around, he even found himself missing Galion, who had become something of a friend despite his irreverence. It didn’t help that everyone around him seemed particularly quiet and somber since the departure of Lindon’s most beautiful inhabitant (Valar, how he hated it when the people around him went on and on and on about Thranduil’s looks, even if he did agree with their assessment of them). Even the autumn feast was far less cheerful than the previous year’s feast, and Elrond had no problem volunteering for guard duty. 

And then finally, part-way through the winter, a messenger arrived bearing a letter for Elrond.

My love,

Even just writing those words again feels so good to me. Not nearly as good as being with you would feel, but I have been so lonely without you that I suppose any comfort I can find is pleasing to me. But I think the rest of the words I have to write here will please you even more…

I arrived safely at my father’s new fortress in the Greenwood only a few days ago (weeks, by the time you receive this). Of course, it’s not very green here at the moment. Most of the trees are such beautiful yellows and reds right now. The air is amazingly crisp and clear…it’s so refreshing and whenever I’m outside in it I feel more alive than ever before. I can’t wait to see what the forest is like in the other seasons. The elves who live here have told me that in other seasons, the forest is full of flowers and other plants, including many herbs, and that there are many animals in all seasons. At any rate, I’m absolutely desperate to share the beauty of this place with you. I think you would love it here.

Fortunately, I managed to convince my father than we should invite some of our friends from Lindon to come visit us so we can show off a little. He is quite eager to show our little kingdom to others (can you believe the Silvan elves here loved him enough to make him their king? On purpose? I still can’t.). And my heart aches to see you again…Consider this your official invitation to come visit me. By the time this reaches you, I suspect it will be winter and travel will be difficult, so I understand if I must wait until the spring to see you. But please, come soon. Merely thinking of you just isn’t enough for me anymore.

With deepest love,  
Thranduil

Tucked inside the letter was a rather long lock of his hair, carefully tied with a silvery ribbon. Elrond took to carrying both the letter and the lock of hair with him at all times, tucked inside his tunics where they were close to his heart. 

The day after the letter arrived, Gil-galad (who had received his own letter from Oropher) summoned him to let him know that, as promised, he was to become the first official ambassador from Lindon to the Greenwood. He would have to send others with Elrond, of course, but Elrond would be in charge, and Gil-galad fully understood that his herald’s main purpose in visiting was to see Thranduil. Much to Elrond’s sadness, he agreed that travel during the winter wouldn’t be safe, and kept Elrond in Lindon until he finally felt winter giving way to spring. And then, he sent off Elrond, the Greenwood messenger (who had been more than happy to stay in Lindon until the spring), and the small band of guards going with them with great fanfare. 

Luck was on their side, and (at least according to the messenger from the Greenwood) they made it to their destination in record time. It was mid-morning on a foggy day when they arrived at Oropher’s stronghold in the Greenwood and were escorted into the throne room to greet him. Dozens of elves had gathered to see the visitors from Lindon, and Elrond noted that the Silvan elves seemed to favor greens, browns, and similar nature-based colors in their clothes. In stark contrast, Oropher had dressed himself in bright yellows for the day…and then there was Thranduil.

Elrond’s heart nearly stopped when he laid eyes on his love for the first time in months. While Oropher sat stiffly upright in his massive throne (carved from the very rock his fortress had been built on, it seemed), Thranduil lounged in a smaller wooden one off to the side. He had one leg crossed over the other and was leaning on one of his throne’s high arms, his face an impassive mask as his eyes scanned the crowd and took in every little detail of the gathering. He was dressed in a robe of spring green and silver, a halo of the season’s most colorful flowers and leaves rising from behind his head. When he saw Elrond and the others, his smile brightened and he sat up a little more, gripping the arm of his throne for dear life. 

It took everything Elrond had not to run forward and scoop him up right then and there.

“Ah, Elrond,” Oropher said. Even to those who hadn’t known Oropher in Lindon, he sounded disappointed. “So good of you to come. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

“I did indeed,” Elrond replied. “Pleasant and wholly uneventful. My companions and I are very much looking forward to getting to know your new realm. Congratulations, by the way, what we have seen of it so far is lovely.”

“Perhaps I could give you a more thorough tour,” Thranduil spoke up. “I’m sure Gil-galad will want a full report, after all.”

Oropher nodded. “Yes, an excellent idea. And who better to show our guest the bounty of the forest than its Prince?” All around them, Oropher’s aides and advisors murmured their approval. Thranduil’s smile turned just a touch smug as he settled back into his seat. “But perhaps our ambassador should have a chance to rest and enjoy a good meal first,” Oropher added. “You can take him on your grand tour tomorrow.” Elrond and his companions bowed, and the king waved some servants forward. “Show them to their quarters, and then tell the kitchens to prepare a feast to celebrate their arrival. Only the best of the Greenwood’s fine offerings for our illustrious guests.”

Galion appeared at Elrond’s side and said, “This way, sir,” before heading for one of the many doors out of the great hall. Other servants were leading the rest of Elrond’s party elsewhere, while a few more were scurrying around to complete other tasks. Elrond followed Galion closely, trying to memorize the layout of the fortress as they went.

“Is it just my perception, or was Oropher not very pleased to see me?” he asked.

Galion motioned for him to wait a moment, then stopped to open a door and led Elrond inside. The door opened into a well-appointed bedroom, with a large and comfortable-looking bed piled with plush pillows and soft blankets of silk and fur against one wall and a closet of some dark wood built into another. A table with two chairs sat below a large, wide-open window with a lovely view of the forest, and a second door in the room opened into a small private bath. Between the window and the closet stood a mirror, positioned in such a way that anyone using it would also be able to see anyone who entered the room from the hallway. There was even a small dressing table tucked into the corner near the bathroom door. Galion closed the door behind them and handed Elrond the key. “I’m still not used to how sound carries in this place,” he said. “So I like to be cautious. Anyway no, he’s not too happy to see you, but I don’t think it’s about you personally. I think he fully expected Gil-galad to drop everything and come out here himself.” Galion stepped over to the window and leaned against the table as he looked out. “This place is beautiful, and I guess as kingdoms go it’s not so bad, but it’s no Lindon either and Gil-galad is the High King of the Noldor. Even I know he’s not going to come out here just to look at leaves and tell Oropher how wonderful his castle is.”

Elrond nodded. “I understand. I’m only here because he knows about my relationship with Thranduil, and how much I miss him…”

Galion turned back to him again and grinned. “Speaking of Thranduil, I should get back to the great hall and let him know where I put you. He’ll come see you as soon as court is over. In the meantime, get cleaned up and comfortable.”

“I will. But…if you could…tell him to hurry, please?”

Galion laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Court will take as long as Oropher thinks it should take, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But trust me. Thranduil has no desire to wait either. He’ll hurry whether I tell him to or not.”

*** *** ***

Elrond decided to take Galion’s advice and bathe while he waited, though he left his bathroom door open and the main door unlocked in the event that Thranduil showed up during that time. He didn’t (which caused all kinds of mixed feelings in Elrond), but that just gave the brown-haired elf time to properly bathe without being too distracted. After his bath, he dried off and chose an outfit of subtle reds for the feast, and began dressing.

He had just gotten his undershirt buttoned and straightened when someone knocked on the door, and he called, “Enter!” Elrond watched in his mirror as the door opened and Thranduil, in all his green, flower-bedecked glory, slipped in and shut the door behind himself. He leaned back against it, watching Elrond in the mirror, his smile growing wider and wider by the second until he was laughing and dashing across the room. Elrond turned just in time to catch him and took advantage of Thanduil’s momentum, twirling and sweeping the young prince right off his feet. Thranduil just clung tightly to Elrond until his feet were firmly back on the ground, and finally took the opportunity to capture his long-missed lover’s mouth in a deep kiss.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” Elrond said when they finally broke the kiss. “And happier, too. I take it that life here in the Greenwood agrees with you.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Thranduil said. He took Elrond’s hands and dragged him over to the bed, where they sat side by side on the edge, clutching each other’s hands as though their lives depended on it. “It’s so beautiful out in the forest, and the elves here are so kind…apparently I’m not quite their type, so instead of fawning over my pretty face they actually treat me like I have a personality. It’s not perfect, of course…I am their prince now and that does influence how they see me…but it’s so much better than it was at the court in Lindon.”

Elrond beamed and kissed his cheek. “I’m happy for you, then. Though I miss you terribly and would much prefer for you to be by my side.”

“That’s one of the only things keeping me from saying that this place is perfect,” Thranduil said. “You aren’t here.”

“Does your father know yet?’

Thranduil shook his head. “I have no idea how to tell him. None at all. I keep trying to think of ways to make him accept it, things that would make him stop being so obsessed with having a grandchild, things that would make him accept you…but…” he sighed. “We’ll come up with something eventually, and in the meantime I’m not saying a word to him.”

Elrond nodded in agreement. “Then I will follow your lead. Now then,” he reached up and gently took the flowery crown off of Thranduil’s head and set it on his bedside table, then leaned back on his pillows and tugged on Thranduil’s hands until he was snuggled against Elrond, his head pillowed on the other’s chest. “Tell me all about this gorgeous forest of yours, and all the things you love so much about it. I want to know what you’re going to show me on our tour.”


	18. Chapter 17

Thranduil tugged at the straps of the pack he planned to give Elrond, making sure they were sturdy and secure so the supplies inside wouldn’t fall out as they travelled, and paused. He was being watched. And whoever was watching him was in a sour mood. Thranduil wasn’t entirely sure how he knew that (it seemed to be a sense he had always had), but he was grateful for the warning. It would make it that much easier to ignore the verbal jabs and snipes he knew were coming.

“Only two packs?” Oropher asked as he came up behind his crouching son.

Thranduil slowly rose again and turned to look at his father, making sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “Only two of us are travelling,” he replied, “and our journey will last only a few days. I don’t plan on taking him too far this time.”

“You should bring guards,” Oropher said as he began to pace around the room. He had chosen a deep brown robe of something rich but slightly rough-looking, and it trailed behind him like an angry river of mud as he prowled. “You are a prince.”

“And the Greenwood is hardly dangerous,” Thranduil said. “You speak as though Elrond and I were incompetent fighters, Adar.”

“Of his skills I neither know nor care to,” Oropher said. He bent down to retrieve one of Thranduil’s swords from where he had propped them against the wall and studied it. “Of your skills I remain skeptical, since you managed to almost die in both of your two major battles.”

Thranduil snatched his sword from Oropher’s hand and strapped it on, then grabbed the other one before his father could take it. “Hardly surprising given that one of those battles involved a dragon, you know. You would have almost died too in my position. But my skills are not as weak as you think they are.”

“Alone in the forest with one of Gil-galad’s lackeys is hardly the place to test that, Thranduil,” Oropher said. If he noticed the flash of anger in his son’s eyes, or the way Thranduil’s jaw clenched, he didn’t respond to it. “I would truly prefer not to bury my son, you know.”

“No, it would be difficult for you to get your perfect grandson out of me if you did, wouldn’t it?” Thranduil replied. 

The two stared at each other for several long moments, Thranduil’s eyes full of anger and defiance and Oropher looking very much like he wanted to backhand his son across the face, and only refrained from doing so to keep the servants who might be watching happy. “I have had nothing but your best interests at heart since the day you were born,” he snarled at Thranduil, “and I will not have you forget that now.”

“Then please, Adar, stop getting in my way,” Thranduil pleaded, the anger slowly leaving his gaze. “Please let me do what I have to do to become the king I’ll have to be someday.”

Oropher snorted. “At this rate, you will never be a king, Thranduil.” As he turned to leave, he added, “Enjoy your little walk in the woods with our guest. Try not to let the deer frighten him too much.” 

Elrond just happened to arrive at that moment, and as Oropher swept past he bowed and murmured a greeting. Oropher ignored him, and as Elrond straightened he turned to watch the king leave. “Seems like I missed something,” he finally said as he joined Thranduil.

Thranduil just shook his head and sighed. “He’s even more impossible now. We should hurry up and leave before he changes his mind about letting us go…”

As they swung their packs on their backs, Galion appeared with small bundles of his own. “Wait! Take these!” he called, and shoved the packs into his surprised friends’ hands. “Extra food,” he said. “They did too much baking in the kitchens this morning and sent those along for you so they wouldn’t go to waste.” As Thranduil set to work finding a spot for his extra food in his pack, Galion pressed a small bottle into Elrond’s hand and winked. “You might need that,” he said softly.

“What is it?” Elrond asked, looking down at the small bottle. It bore a clear, somewhat thick liquid, but had no label.

“Massage oil,” Galion said. Elrond just raised an eyebrow, and Galion chuckled a little. “Well, you never know,” he added. “You’ll come up with a good use for it, I’m sure.” And with that, he waved to them and dashed off.

“Let’s go,” Thranduil said. “I have a particular place I want to take you and we should get there by nightfall.”

*** *** ***

They turned north almost immediately after leaving Oropher’s stronghold, and Thranduil kept up a constant stream of information about the area as they walked. They stopped every so often to let Elrond examine some interesting thing or other (he was particularly interested in the patches of plants useful in healing) but for the most part they kept going and barely even stopped for snacks. Even when Elrond felt hungry or tired, he couldn’t bear to ask Thranduil to stop. The way his beloved seemed to relax and cheer up the farther they got from the fortress warmed him and worried him at the same time. On the one hand, he was pleased that Thranduil had found a place that made him so happy, but on the other, Oropher’s behavior and attitude worried him. 

But finally even Thranduil admitted that they needed a rest, and they stopped for dinner in a small clearing. Thranduil unrolled his sleeping blanket for them to sit on, and they dug into his pack to find some of the fruit, bread, and cheese they had packed.

“Lembas would have been easier, don’t you think?” Elrond asked.

“Ugh, I know,” Thranduil said. “But…I shouldn’t lie to you, Elrond, the winter was a bit hard on us. Adar’s trade networks aren’t fully formed here yet, and it was a lean year in the forest. Game was hard to come by. We all wound up eating a lot of lembas to get by. I’m so sick of lembas, I would happily eat the bark off a tree instead.”

Elrond leaned against him as they ate. “I’m sorry, I had no idea,” he said.

Thranduil snorted a little. “Of course you wouldn’t, that’s hardly the kind of thing Adar would tell a guest. Especially one he doesn’t think so highly of, you know.”

“Why does your father dislike me so much, anyway?”

“Who knows?” Thranduil sighed. “It could be anything. You’re half-elven, you came to Lindon after we did, you aren’t from Doriath, you serve Gil-galad instead of trying to have a realm of your own…so many possible reasons and it could be any or all of them, or even one I haven’t thought of.”

Elrond ate his dinner in silence for a while, then turned to look at Thranduil more closely. “If you want to come back to Lindon, I’ll make up some excuse to bring you along.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Thranduil said, turning to smile at Elrond and kiss his nose. “But my place is here. Someone has to be a good leader and I’m not sure Adar is up to the task.”

Elrond set the last of his bread down and reached up to cup Thranduil’s face in his hands. “You have no idea how much I admire your determination to make sure these Elves are taken care of,” he said. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this, and yet…”

“Trust me, if I didn’t feel that I had duties in this place I would take you up on your offer,” the blond elf replied. “So don’t start thinking too highly of me. I have my selfish side too…and being a prince does have its perks, often of the sparkling, valuable kind.”

Elrond laughed and kissed his cheek, then settled in to finish his dinner. “And here I thought that crown of flowers meant you were getting away from your father’s sense of style.”

“Mmm, more just putting my own mark on it,” Thranduil said. “I am prince of the woodland realm. What better way to show that than by wearing part of the woodland realm on my head?” He finished his dinner and stretched. “Come on, we should keep moving. It’s just a little bit further!”

“Can’t we rest just a little longer?” Elrond asked. “You’re going to wear me out at this rate!”

“Oh, fine,” Thranduil said, and laughed a little. “But only until sunset. Then we have to move. I don’t want you to miss this.”

Elrond nodded and leaned his head back against a tree, closing his eyes to get some rest. It felt like he had only been sitting that way for a few minutes when he suddenly felt Thranduil shaking him. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep!” Thranduil said. He grinned and stood back up, then held a hand out to Elrond. “Come on, the sun has already mostly set.”

Elrond accepted his hand and let Thranduil pull him to his feet, then hoisted his pack onto his back once more and followed the blond elf back into the forest. As they moved through the forest it grew darker, and before long the only light came from the moon and stars above them. Thranduil stopped for a moment to retrieve a small lantern from his pack, and he lit it before moving on. They walked in silence for almost an hour, fighting through the undergrowth the whole way, and then suddenly they stepped into a clearing.

“Ah, here we go,” Thranduil said cheerfully. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

At first Elrond couldn’t answer, because he was too busy gaping in awe at the site before him. They were at the edge of a small lake (small enough that he could have swum across it and back with ease, he thought), the likes of which he had never seen before. The lake shore was lined with trees of all kinds, including several flowering trees whose flowers were just reaching their peak. Here and there between the trees, like in the spot where they stood, there were small rocks and broad patches of ground covered in soft, thick moss, so inviting that Elrond was tempted to lay down and sleep right there. 

But the lake itself was the most eye-catching thing there, and it took Elrond’s breath away. There were barely any waves on its surface, except when the wind blew or something fell into the water and disturbed the surface. The water itself was amazingly clear and provided an almost perfect reflection of everything around it, especially the moon and stars. When a breeze blew through the clearing, the lake rippled and the reflected light reminded him of dancing jewels, or flickering flames magically turned white and blue. When a few white petals from a nearby tree fell into the water, the light flickered over the ripples they made, and the petals themselves blended with the reflected light and became nearly invisible.

“This is amazing…” Elrond whispered, barely daring to disturb the quiet night around them. He felt as though the entire scene might vanish if he disturbed it in any way, that he might wake up in his warm bed in Lindon and realize that it was all just a dream.

“I found it not long after I got here,” Thranduil replied, and nothing vanished. “I love coming here, even in the winter. Adar doesn’t know about it and it seems that nobody else in the castle does either, so it’s always quiet and I know I’ll have my privacy here.” He blushed a little and added, “Given what I do with my privacy, sometimes, that’s quite important.”

Elrond shook his head and chuckled a little as he turned his attention to laying out his bed roll. Beside him, he heard the sound of Thranduil’s pack hitting the ground, and assumed the other elf would be doing the same. But then he heard something else fall – Thranduil’s sword belt, from the sound of it – and he turned to see what was going on. He gasped a little when he realized that his ears had not deceived him. Thranduil’s boots sat beside his pack, as did his weapons, and the prince was currently working his way out of the rest of his clothes, back turned to Elrond as he did. When he turned to drape his tunic over his pack, he noticed Elrond watching, and flashed him a quick, shy smile before turning his attention to his leggings. He pushed them down to his knees, then stepped out of them and set them on his pack too before making his way towards the lake shore.

“Isn’t it a little cold yet for swimming?” Elrond asked. He sounded more than a little breathless, and indeed, the sight of his lover’s body in the moonlight had absolutely stunned him into breathlessness for the second time that night. 

Thranduil looked over his shoulder and smiled again. “A little, perhaps. But I trust you can warm me up.” He didn’t wait for Elrond to reply. He simply stepped into the water and slowly waded out until he was waist-deep in it, then dove in. A few seconds later, he surfaced closer to the center of the lake, pushing his long hair back out of his face and turning towards the shore again. “Won’t you join me?” he asked.

Elrond just stared for a moment, watching the way the lights danced around Thranduil and the waves he made in the water, the way the moonlight and starlight shone on his now-wet hair and skin, the way his eyes seemed to shine just as brightly as the stars themselves. Without even being fully aware of what he was doing, he undressed, tossing his clothes wherever they fell, and made his way to the shore, eyes never leaving the otherworldly being in the lake. His cheeks flushed a little when he noticed that Thranduil was watching him closely too, but he soon realized there was no need for embarrassment with his beloved. Thranduil’s eyes were warm and full of nothing but love as he held his hand out, beckoning Elrond closer. The water was chilly, as he had suspected it would be, but not as cold as he had thought, and so with Thranduil to urge him on he stepped into the lake and carefully waded out until the water was deep enough for swimming. He sank down into it and gasped, then laughed.

“It is cold, how do you make it look so easy?” he asked.

Thranduil laughed and shook his head. “I suppose I’m used to it. Come over here with me, you’ll feel better.”

Elrond obediently swam over to Thranduil. “My feet aren’t touching the bottom anymore…”

“The lake is quite deep, actually,” Thranduil said. “Is it alright?”

“It’s fine,” Elrond said. Thranduil looked relieved, and Elrond reached out to push a bit of silvery-gold hair behind his ear, then let his hand come to rest on the other’s shoulder. “Everything is fine now.” 

They were close enough now to feel the underwater currents they made as they tread water, and for their legs to brush together every so often. Elrond used his grip on Thranduil’s shoulder to gently pull him closer, and within moments they were wrapped in each other’s arms, bare skin on bare skin for the first time in months. He felt Thranduil draw in a shaky breath before their lips met, the first soft and gentle touches gradually giving way to deeper kisses that sent fire coursing through Elrond’s veins. The coolness of the air, the breeze stirring the trees around them, even the stray flower petals that rained down on them with each breeze all seemed to vanish, replaced only by Thranduil’s presence and Thranduil’s touch and the sound of Thranduil’s soft moans against his mouth as they clung to each other. 

Thranduil finally broke the kiss and simply rested his head on Elrond’s shoulder. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he whispered. “I don’t care how wonderful the Greenwood is…there will always be something missing in my life whenever we’re apart.”

Elrond nodded and rested his cheek on Thranduil’s hair. “I know what you mean…Lindon is nothing without you there.”

They floated there in silence, simply holding each other and rubbing each other’s backs and shoulders, and then Thranduil raised his head and gave Elrond a terribly serious look. His face was full of nervousness, and he took a few deep breaths as though stealing himself for something difficult. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a husky whisper. “Elrond…I…I want you.”

“I’m right here,” Elrond said softly, stroking Thranduil’s cheek and smiling fondly at him. “You have me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Thranduil said, and when Elrond just looked confused he slid his hand down Elrond’s torso to gently cup his crotch. Elrond gasped a little, and Thranduil added, “I…heard some of the Silvan elves here talking, about the ways ellyn make love, and…I want you. Inside of me. Like they were talking about.”

Elrond gasped, studying Thranduil’s face for any sign that he was just playing, but all he saw was complete seriousness, nervousness, and even a touch of shyness. Finally, he nodded, and kissed Thranduil’s cheek. “If you’re sure you’re ready for that…” he said.

“I’m sure,” Thranduil said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life.”

They kissed once more, then swam back to shore and carefully picked their way out of the lake. Part-way up the mossy bank, Thranduil stopped and turned to Elrond, reaching out to take his hands before sinking down onto the soft moss bed, pulling Elrond along with him. Thranduil closed his eyes and bit his lip as he lay down, still gripping Elrond’s hands. Elrond smiled and leaned over him, gently kissing his forehead and cheeks. The light touches made Thranduil laugh a little, and he finally opened his eyes. He dropped Elrond’s hands and wrapped one arm loosely around his shoulders while his other hand caressed Elrond’s cheek. 

“Your eyes are like the stars tonight, Elrond,” he said softly. “They shine so brightly, and are so beautiful to me.”

“Nothing like yours,” Elrond replied before bowing his head and once more capturing Thranduil’s mouth with his own. Thranduil’s arms went around him, pulling him more neatly on top of the other elf, and one of Thranduil’s legs brushed against his hip in the most deliciously tantalizing way. Elrond nipped at Thranduil’s lip and let his hand wander down to rub along Thranduil’s thigh, once more savoring the feeling of the strong muscles he could feel under damp, smooth skin. The blond elf moaned and spread his legs wide, allowing Elrond to settle comfortably between them, and he rocked his hips up to meet Elrond’s with great urgency.

“Take it slow, love,” Elrond whispered. “I’m afraid I might hurt you otherwise. We’re in no rush…we have all night, at least.”

“I know, I just…” Thranduil couldn’t find the words he really wanted, and instead he tightened his arms around Elrond and buried one hand in his lover’s soft brown hair.

Elrond nuzzled his neck gently. “I know. I need you too,” he whispered, and received a grateful murmur of understanding in return. He pulled back, slowly and carefully, so that he could sit up, and Thranduil let him go, though he kept his hands touching Elrond for as long as possible. “I…you need to relax, I think,” he said. “So you just rest, and let me do everything.” Thranduil nodded once and let his eyes close again. Elrond smiled a little and found himself wishing desperately that there was some way to capture the sight before him beyond just trying to commit it to memory. Thranduil looked more peaceful and beautiful than he could ever remember seeing before. 

He reached out and gently ran his hands over Thranduil’s body, fingers tracing gentle paths through the water droplets clinging to his skin, over lightly-defined muscles cast in soft shadows by the starlight and moonlight, searching for the areas that brought Thranduil the most pleasure. Elrond leaned forward and followed the path of one hand with a rain of light kisses that started at Thranduil’s collar bone and moved down over his chest, to his stomach (where the kisses tickled enough to make Thranduil laugh), and down further still until he stopped at Thranduil’s hip. He paused just long enough to move to Thranduil’s other side, then made his way back up the other’s body, this time occasionally nipping at the pale skin beneath him, which dragged a few pleased hisses and moans from his lover’s lips. He sat up once more and rubbed his hands over the insides of Thranduil’s thighs, watching in absolute fascination as Thranduil arched his back and grew ever more hard under his touch. 

“Elrond,” he moaned, “please…”

The brown-haired elf simply nodded, and got up for a moment to retrieve the oil from his pack. Thranduil let out a displeased little grumble when Elrond left him, but the grumble quickly turned to a happy moan as Elrond knelt once more between his legs and leaned down to kiss him, letting out a deeply pleased groan of his own as he allowed Thranduil’s tongue the freedom to explore his mouth for a few moments. When he sat up once more, Thranduil was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, chest already heaving a bit as he struggled to catch his breath. 

Elrond poured some of the oil onto his fingers and slowly, carefully, worried that Thranduil would have second thoughts, he reached down to gently massage the other’s tight opening. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Thranduil just nodded, eyes closing once more as he concentrated on staying relaxed and comfortable. Elrond continued massaging, watching Thranduil’s face closely, then finally began to push the tip of his finger inside. Thranduil gasped a bit, and Elrond immediately paused.

“I-it’s fine,” Thranduil said. “K-keep going…I’ve just…never felt anything like that…”

Elrond nodded and used his free hand to stroke Thranduil’s thigh as he worked his finger deeper, ever so slowly, and then began to pull it out. The movement caused Thranduil to arch his back a bit, and he murmured soft moans and whispers of pleasure. When his moans turned into needy begging for more, Elrond carefully added a second finger, which at first made the blond elf go a bit tense. But Elrond was patient and gentle, and as he leaned forward to shower kisses on Thranduil’s chest he could feel his beloved relax once more. 

Finally, after several long minutes, Thranduil reached up to stroke his hair. “Elrond…please…” he whispered. “Take me…”

“Are you sure?” Elrond murmured to him. Thranduil was still tight, and Elrond was very much aware that he was larger than two fingers. But Thranduil nodded and opened his eyes to meet Elrond’s gaze, and in those starry blue eyes Elrond saw love, desire, and the deepest trust he thought any living being had ever shown him. He nodded, then, and gently withdrew his fingers, earning a sharp intake of breath from Thranduil. Elrond paused to make generous use of the oil, sure that it would help ease things for his love, then positioned himself carefully and pushed forward as slowly as he could.

Thranduil didn’t seem to react at first, but then his eyes widened and one hand flew up to cover his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a soft keen as his hand fell to the mossy ground beside his head, and he panted for breath. “E-elrond…”

“Is it too much?” Elrond asked, pausing and taking stock of Thranduil’s reaction.

“I…n-no, I don’t think so…just a lot…”

“Shhh,” Elrond soothed, gently rubbing his hand in small circles on Thranduil’s stomach. “Relax, love. And be honest with me.”

Thranduil nodded a bit. “I can…ooh, Valar…I can take it. I’m okay.”

Elrond nodded too and continued his slow and steady push in, struggling to control his own feelings. Thranduil was incredibly tight and hot around him, and the deeper he went, the less likely he thought it was that he could keep from coming undone before they were both ready. “Ai, Thranduil,” he whispered, his voice a throaty moan as he spoke. “This is…ah, I won’t last long like this…”

Finally (it felt to Elrond like it had taken a lifetime), he was fully in, and he leaned forward to kiss Thranduil. He felt the other’s arms around him again, clinging desperately and making the way Thranduil shivered at his touch all the more obvious. As Thranduil began to trail kisses along his neck and shoulder, Elrond finally began to move, with small and gentle thrusts into his lover. Thranduil arched his back and dug his nails into Elrond’s back, crying out sharply at the first thrust and letting out low moans and keens of pleasure as the movement continued. It didn’t take long for either of them to reach their climax.

Thranduil came first, tilting his head back and nearly sobbing with the intensity of it as he spilled his seed between them. His hands moved up to tangle in Elrond’s hair, gently pulling the other elf closer for a deep kiss as the last few waves of his climax flowed through him. The feeling of Thranduil tightening around him combined with the intensity of his kiss to push Elrond over the edge as well, and moments after Thranduil came, he did as well, holding himself deep inside of his lover as he shuddered through it. Finally spent, he slowly pulled out, and stretched out beside Thranduil to rest.

Thranduil rolled onto his side to face Elrond and gently rested his hand on his lover’s heaving chest. It took them both several minutes to catch their breath, and then Thranduil whispered, “Elrond?”

“Hmm?”

“That was…are there even words for it?”

Elrond grinned. “Maybe not,” he said. “’Enjoyable’ doesn’t do it justice.”

“No,” Thranduil agreed. He smiled a little and traced his finger in circles on Elrond’s chest. “Thank you, love. I’ve been waiting months to even ask you for that…it was worth it.”

Elrond kissed his cheek, then got up to get their blankets. When he returned, he snuggled close to Thranduil and draped the blankets over both of them. “It was,” he agreed. “It certainly was.”


	19. Chapter 18

Elrond was the first to wake up the following morning, and for the longest time he just lay there in silence, listening to the birds singing in the trees and feeling Thranduil’s warm breath on his neck. He kept his eyes closed, focusing instead on what he could feel with his other senses. The birds, of course, but also the sound of the gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and of the water of their little secret lake lapping on the shore. There was a crispness in the cool morning air – not the earthy crispness of autumn, but something sweeter, something that held promises for the future, and had just the slightest hint of perfume from the flowering trees. The same breeze that rustled the leaves sent flower petals falling onto his cheek and raised goose bumps on his exposed skin. But best of all was the warmth he felt with Thranduil – the external, physical warmth of their bodies entwined together on the mossy ground, but also the emotional warmth he always felt in Thranduil’s presence, and especially when they touched. It was the warmth that told him that this was right, that he was exactly where he should be when he was by Thranduil’s side. How lucky they had been to find each other…Elrond knew that most people never did find their soul mate. 

Finally, he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the early morning light filtering through the trees, then sat up to take in the view. Now, in daylight, he could better see the lake and its more distant shores. The lake water was shockingly clear, and Elrond felt that it was an almost perfect mirror, reflecting the trees all around and the clouds in the sky in such detail that, had he been closer to the lake, he might have found himself wondering which way was actually up. He noticed that the flowering trees were not just white, but also various shades of pink, all blended perfectly with the greenness of the early spring leaves. He sat up and hugged his knees to his chest as he admired the way the last bit of morning mist was rapidly fading under the warm sun as the trees swayed in the breeze and tiny songbirds darted here and there through their branches. 

He jumped a little at the sudden feeling of fingers on his back, then turned to see that Thranduil had finally woken up too and that the fingers (of course) were his. He gave Elrond a mischievous little smile and slowly sat up, letting his hand ghost across Elrond’s shoulders until he was able to drape his arm around the other’s shoulders and gently trail little kisses along them. Elrond let him do so for a while, then turned so he could gather Thranduil in his arms and kiss him deeply. Thranduil moaned a bit and tangled one hand in Elrond’s hair, his other hand drifting down to rest against Elrond’s lower back. 

“How are you this morning?” Elrond asked as they finally pulled away from each other.

“A little sore in awkward places,” Thranduil replied, cheeks flushing pink as he admitted it, “but not in the least bit unhappy about it.” 

Elrond nodded and hugged him close so that Thranduil’s head was on his shoulder. “Still. I would rather you felt no discomfort.”

“I think it will be some time before that happens,” Thranduil said. “But I don’t regret it at all. And I look forward to it again.”

Elrond kissed his cheek. “I look forward to breakfast right now, though.”

The blond elf chuckled a little and nodded. “Then let’s get cleaned up and have some. We can eat what we brought, and then we can go where I wanted to take you today – there’s a Silvan settlement not too far from here and they’re usually quite kind and welcoming to me when I pass by. I’m sure we could join them for lunch or dinner if we did our share of the work.”

“Our share of the work?” Elrond echoed as Thranduil stood and went to retrieve his bag.

Thranduil dug through his pack and nodded, then tossed Elrond a small bar of soap. “You should have a towel in your pack, too. And yes, our share of the work. Starting fires, gathering edible plants, maybe catching a fish or two in the river or seeing if we can hunt down a bird or a deer. They tried to get me to cook once, but they haven’t asked again so I think they regretted it.”

Elrond watched Thranduil’s face as he spoke about the Silvan elves. There was tenderness in his eyes that Elrond had previously only seen when Thranduil was in his company, or was speaking about Galion. “You’ve grown quite attached to them,” he said.

Thranduil simply nodded as he made his way to the lake for a quick bath. “I have,” he said. “Not just that settlement either, though they’re the ones I interact with the most. The people here didn’t have to welcome us, you know, but they did. I don’t know why. And I love that they don’t treat me like some fragile little thing who can’t do anything useful…Anyway, I feel like I owe them something. My protection, my support, my help…whatever I can give them.”

Elrond joined him in the lake, and he was quite sure his bath that morning was the fastest and coldest he had ever had. But on the plus side, he smelled like Thranduil when he was finished, so he couldn’t complain. “You’re going to be a good king to them someday. I hope your father listens to you now.” He ignored Thranduil’s irritated huff at the mention of his father. “Let’s have a little something to eat before we go. You wore me out last night and I need a bit more energy if I’m going to make it to a settlement and prepare my own meal.” 

*** *** ***

They arrived in the Silvan settlement just before lunch time, and were greeted quite heartily by the settlement’s appointed leader, several of the hunters, and a gaggle of elflings (who seemed to love Thranduil as though he was their favorite big brother or uncle). Since lunch was already being prepared, the visitors were assigned to take care of the elflings while the rest of the adults went about their daily tasks. Elrond offered to tell them a story, and they found a comfortable spot near the cooking fire to sit and talk. Elrond was given the seat of honor on a chunk of tree trunk with a cushion on top, and Thranduil sat on a bench nearby, bouncing the two smallest elflings on his knees and looking positively delighted with the way his day was going.

For his story, Elrond chose a sanitized version of the last battle against the orcs, featuring Thranduil as the hero. As was the storytelling tradition where he came from, he interspersed the story with poems and songs (all of which he made up on the spot, though the songs borrowed their tunes from songs he already knew). The elflings stared at him in complete awe, and his songs even attracted the attention of adults, who stopped their work and came over to listen as well. For his part, Elrond kept an eye on the cooking food, and when some of their hosts started preparing it for serving, he quickly wrapped his story up.

“…And so, the young prince in disguise rode home with the victorious elves, and to this day none quite know who it was that saved the day in battle for Gil-galad and his men. Some say it was Gil-galad himself and he only refused to tell because, good king that he is, he is far too modest to say so. Some say the disguised prince was never there at all! But some say that he was real, and not only that, but someday when Lindon has need of him again, he will return and lead us to victory once more!”

The elflings cheered, then scrambled off to find their parents and their lunches. Thranduil kissed his two little friends on the head before turning them loose again, and they toddled off into their parents’ waiting arms as he watched. As they were ushered off to seats beside the settlement’s leader, Thranduil whispered, “Why did you make me the hero of that story? I barely did anything in reality.”

“Well, why not?” Elrond said. “You have to admit, it made for a thrilling tale. And when you’re keeping elflings occupied…”

Thranduil chuckled a little as he sat down and accepted the plate of food someone set in front of him. “I suppose you’re right. And they certainly did seem to enjoy it, didn’t they?”

Elrond took his own plate of food, then accepted the pitcher of water being passed around and poured himself and Thranduil each a cup before passing the pitcher on. Thranduil wound up being distracted by one of the younger elves sitting beside him, and for a few minutes Elrond found himself alone with nobody to talk to. But that didn’t last very long.

“So,” the settlement leader finally said to him, “you’re his special one that he’s always talking about.”

Elrond turned to study the elf. He was clearly an older elf – his deep blue eyes had the look of someone who had seen too much – and he kept his chestnut-brown hair bound back in a thick braid. His face had strong, square features, and his ears were larger and more obviously pointed than those of other elves. 

“I…have no idea how to answer that,” Elrond said. Would admitting that he and Thranduil were involved turn this elf’s opinion of Thranduil sour? The people here seemed to love Thranduil, and he loved them. The last thing Elrond wanted was to take that away from them.

The leader chewed his grilled fish thoughtfully, studying Elrond as he did. “You could answer honestly,” he said. “We here understand that sometimes the heart is complicated.” He nodded down the bench to two ellyth who were deeply engrossed in feeding each other bits of dried fruit, giggling madly the whole time. “That’s my daughter and her partner,” he said. “And if all of the hunters were back, you could meet my cousin and his partner. They have been together almost as long as I have been alive.” 

“Well…in that case…I suppose I am the one Thranduil is always talking about,” Elrond finally said. “I am Elrond. Though I suppose he told you my name already.”

“I am Belion. And no, he rarely mentions names when he talks about the people in his life.”

At that moment, Thranduil leaned forward to look past Elrond and asked, “Belion, will you and your people be coming to the spring feast?”

Belion laughed. “Are we invited? Your father hasn’t exactly sent out invitations.”

Thranduil snorted. “You send your sons and daughters to serve in our castle and our army. That’s all the invitation you need as far as I’m concerned, and if you need more than that, I’ll send you one when I return to the castle.”

“Then I’m sure we will come, young one,” Belion said. “But only if you agree to stay here tonight and help us celebrate.”

Thranduil tilted his head and frowned in confusion. “What are you celebrating?”

“Our own spring rights, of course! And what better way to celebrate than with Vigorous Spring personified right here in our settlement?”

Elrond turned to Thranduil just in time to see his eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. Elrond’s lips twitched. “Vigorous spring?”

“Oh hush, surely you already knew my name means that,” Thranduil said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. 

“I actually never gave it that much thought…” Elrond replied. “I guess it’s no worse than ‘star-dome.’”

Thranduil just laughed and hugged Elrond’s arm. “Ah, Belion,” he finally said, “of course we’ll be staying. We have to leave early in the morning, though…it’s a bit of a hike to the castle from here.”

*** *** ***

As it turned out, lunch was only the opening course in a feast that spanned the rest of the day and on into the night, punctuated by music, singing, and dancing the likes of which Elrond had never experienced before. Though not nearly as refined as what he was used to in Lindon, he felt that the sheer energy of the Silvan elves’ arts (especially the drum-heavy music) put those of Lindon to shame. 

Of course, he was probably biased by the fact that watching Thranduil dance so exuberantly was a terribly pleasing experience.

When the sun set, the young hunters of the settlement carried in large logs and built up a pile right in the clearing in the middle of the settlement, and soon the pile was ablaze, providing the festivities with a fiery focal point. The dancers danced around the bonfire. Occasionally, when they took a break, a small group of intrepid elflings would approach with some food item on long sticks, and they used the bonfire to roast their treats before darting off and letting the adults go back to dancing. And then, just when Elrond thought things couldn’t get any more different from Lindon, a young ellon took a running leap and launched himself over the bonfire, earning himself a round of applause and appreciative cheers as he landed. He turned out to be only the first, as it seemed that every ellyn in the camp wanted to show off as he had. 

“Is there a reason for that or is it just fun?” Elrond asked Belion, who had taken up a seat beside his guests and was currently drinking a tankard of locally-brewed beer.

Belion licked a stray drop off of his lips, then said, “A bit of both. It started as a fertility ritual of sorts, but in recent centuries has turned into a way for the young ellyn to show off their strength and dexterity. Leaping the bonfire is no easy task.”

Just as he said that, Elrond caught sight of Thranduil moving into position on the other side of the fire, and he immediately went tense. “Just how difficult is it?”

Belion, frowned at Elrond a bit, then followed his gaze. “Ah…Thranduil should have no problem with it. I have seen him with our hunters. What he lacks in skill with a bow he more than makes up for in other ways.” He gave Elrond’s arm a quick pat of reassurance. “Have no fear. Your special one is special in many ways.”

They both turned their attention back to Thranduil, who had backed up well into the shadows of the trees in preparation for his leap. He took a few deep breaths, eyes fixed on the fire, then sprinted forward. Just when Elrond thought it would be too late, he took a flying leap, and just as Belion had predicted he cleared the bonfire with no trouble, though he didn’t quite catch his balance as he landed and instead wound up falling and rolling away from the fire. As the crowd cheered, two of the hunters helped him up and brushed him off, laughing and clapping him on the shoulders as they did. Thranduil returned their cheerful shoulder-claps, then wandered back to Elrond and plopped down on the seat beside him.

“That was invigorating! You should try it.”

Elrond just laughed and shook his head. “No, I’ll leave the fire-jumping to you.” Thranduil just chuckled and leaned against him. Soon, the blond elf was dozing off, and Elrond turned to Belion to ask, “Where would be the best place for us to sleep?”

“Ah, yes. Wait here, I’ll have a spot prepared for you.” The settlement’s leader rose to his feet and disappeared around the other side of the fire. He returned a few minutes later and beckoned for Elrond to follow. Elrond nudged Thranduil awake again, and the two got up (Thanduil still leaning on Elrond, who had an arm around his waist) and followed Belion to a small hut on the other side of the clearing. “It’s not much, but it’s big enough for two and it will keep you out of the weather,” Belion said. “Come find me before you leave in the morning…and sleep well.”

“Thank you,” Elrond said, and helped Thranduil into the cottage before closing the door behind them.

“Ah…nice and cozy in here,” Thranduil said. He stretched a bit before taking off his clothes and lying down on one of the thick sleeping mats that had been laid out on the floor. 

“It is,” Elrond agreed. He too stripped and found a good place to store his clothes (he noticed that their packs were in one corner of the hut and opted to fold his clothes on top of them), then laid down and snuggled up to Thranduil. The blond elf grinned and rolled onto his side so he could hug Elrond closer.

“I hope you don’t mind if I’m too tired for anything tonight…” he murmured, already sounding half asleep again.

“Of course not,” Elrond replied. He did manage to steal a quick kiss before Thranduil fell asleep entirely, and he pulled a blanket up over them before adding, “Sleep well, love.”


	20. Chapter 19

“Remember, don’t tell him about the lake.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow at Thranduil’s back as they marched through the forest on their return to Oropher’s castle. “I wasn’t planning to,” he said.

They marched on in companionable silence for a moment, though Elrond sensed a bit of tension from Thranduil. Finally, the blond elf added, “Best not to mention the whole bonfire thing either.”

“Of course not,” Elrond said, though now he was beginning to worry. Ever since they had left the Silvan settlement (after a hearty breakfast and a game of hide and seek with the elflings), Thranduil had been doing this – walking in silence, growing more and more tense, and then coming up with something he didn’t want Elrond to mention to Oropher. The lake had been mentioned four or five times already, as had much else about their trip. Elrond had already begun to wonder what he could tell Oropher…but now, that curiosity was beginning to be drowned by his concern over what all this secrecy meant for Thranduil’s relationship with his father. 

Elrond didn’t like the implications at all.

“In fact, it’s probably just better not to tell him about the settlement at all,” Thranduil said.

“Thranduil!” he finally said, letting every bit of confusion and exasperation into his voice. Ahead of him, Thranduil stopped and turned, looking very much like Elrond had just kicked his favorite puppy. Elrond sighed and closed the short distance between them, reaching out to take Thranduil’s hands in both of his own when he was close enough. “Why can’t I tell your father anything at all? What are you so worried about, love?”

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. “I…want him to be proud of me. I want him to acknowledge than I’m not the fragile little child he thinks I am. Someday, I want him to accept you and let us be together and I’m just so frightened that none of that will happen if he knows about the things I’ve already done, like jumping over a bonfire I mean what proper Sinda does things like that, or if he finds out I have secret places I go to get away from him or oh Valar, Elrond, he’ll be so angry if he knows we…that we…what we…”

Elrond pulled him into a tight hug, the wheels in his head already turning as he tried to think of logical reasons for Thranduil to leave the Greenwood with him. Could he forge a convincing note from Gil-galad? But Oropher would have noticed that no messenger arrived…unless they could say they had met the messenger on the way…yes, that could work. He just needed some parchment and a quill, now…

Thranduil took a deep breath and raised his head from Elrond’s shoulder, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice much more steady than it had been only a moment before. “I’m alright now.”

“You could come back to Lindon with me,” Elrond said. “Do you have any parchment? I can forge a letter from Gil-galad calling you back, and we can say we met the messenger on the way in.”

Thranduil just stared at him for a moment, mouth working as he tried to formulate a reply, and suddenly he smiled and stroked Elrond’s cheek. “My love,” he said, “always looking for solutions. Elrond, I…appreciate the effort, really I do…but you met those elves. You liked them. Belion, and the elflings…how could I abandon them? Right now, my father’s stubbornness only hurts me. And you, but isn’t that better than hurting everyone here? I’m…the buffer between the woodland elves and his bad ideas. I am needed here.”

“But you’re suffering so much,” Elrond said softly, stroking Thranduil’s cheek in turn. “I thought you were about to break down in panic just moments ago.”

Thranduil pursed his lips. “Elrond…you…have no family left. You parents aren’t here, your twin chose a mortal life and died a long time ago…you have me. But I haven’t lost all of mine yet. I still have my father, and while I sometimes hate him and what he does to me, I also love him fiercely. I’m not going to just leave him. As long as he breathes and remains here, I…feel like there’s a chance of him…becoming the Oropher he was before the War of Wrath.” He turned away and walked on a few steps, then sighed and turned to look at Elrond once more. “Can you understand that?”

“No,” Elrond said. He didn’t even have to think about it, and the cold statement brought shock to Thranduil’s fair face. “But I can promise to always be strong for you,” he continued, “and to always be there when you think you can’t take it anymore and you need to get away. Please, Thranduil…don’t think you have no options, or no hope. You do.”

Thranduil smiled at him and nodded. “Come on. If we’re going to show up today, we had better do it before dinner.” They had only made it a few more feet when he added, “Oh, and better not mention this conversation to him either.”

*** *** ***

Galion was waiting in the entrance hall for them when they arrived, and without so much as a basic greeting he ushered them both off to their rooms. “Dwarves showed up,” he said, “and they’re in audience with Oropher right now. You two better get all pretty and good-smelling and show up too,” he said.

Thranduil just snorted. “Why would I want to deal with them?” he asked.

“Because even you are more reasonable than your father when it comes to dwarves,” Galion replied. He practically shoved Elrond into his room, then continued down the hall with Thranduil. “Remember!” he called over his shoulder to Elrond. “Pretty and good-smelling!”

Elrond sighed and made quick work of bathing and dressing (blue robes today), then made his way to the great hall where Oropher typically held audiences. He arrived just in time to join Thranduil, dressed in his spring-green robes and once again sporting his halo-like crown of leaves and flowers. He looked terribly serious as he swept into the room, Elrond and Galion at his heels, and he only just barely glanced at the dwarves as he strode to his own throne.

“Ah, Thranduil!” Oropher said. He stood and held out his arms as he went to meet his son, and Thranduil gave him a rather awkward hug. “I trust your little tour of the forest was pleasant?”

“Very,” Thranduil replied coolly. “We had pleasant weather and, just as I expected, nothing at all exciting happened.”

“Ah, excellent,” Oropher replied. He turned his head to smile and nod at Elrond, which immediately made the Lindon elf suspicious. “Elrond! What do you think of our lovely Greenwood?”

Elrond took a small step forward and bowed. The dwarves grumbled in irritation at being so unceremoniously thrust aside, and Elrond could feel the tension rising in the room as a result of their irritation. He decided to keep his comments as short as possible. “It is lovely,” he said, “and I wish we had the like of it in Lindon.”

Oropher seemed satisfied with that answer and motioned for Elrond to approach. A servant scrambled forward with a chair for him. “Please, be seated,” Oropher said. “You are most welcome in my hall.”

Elrond carefully lowered himself into the chair, almost as though he expected it to break under him, and turned his attention to the dwarves. One (the group leader, he assumed) scowled at him, then cleared his throat, smoothed his shockingly red beard, and said, “Now then, as I was saying, it would seem beneficial to both of our people to have an alliance, or at least to not be openly hostile to one another, and to that end –“

“Excuse me,” Thranduil said from Oropher’s other side, his voice clear and firm. “I would greatly appreciate being informed of what you have already discussed.”

The dwarf bristled at being interrupted again, but Oropher turned to his son and said, “This is Sturla son of Steinarr, and he is here on behalf of the dwarves settling in Erebor to discuss an…arrangement.” Thranduil simply nodded, and Oropher turned back to the dwarves. “As you were saying?”

Sturla grumbled. “Do you want an arrangement or not, Elf-king?” he finally said. “It seems like an easy enough question.”

“How would such an arrangement benefit us?” Thranduil asked.

“We will need safe trade routes, of course,” Sturla said, “and it would be easiest for us to pass through the Greenwood on the way West, you know. Sometimes our people might need food, care for injuries—“

“I said,” Thranduil interrupted sharply, “how would such an arrangement benefit us? By which of course I mean the elves of the Greenwood.”

Sturla bristled even more and his entourage grumbled. Elrond pressed his lips together and gripped the arms of his chair to keep from intervening. While he was sure Thranduil wouldn’t mind, Oropher was another matter entirely, and besides, Elrond didn’t live here and wouldn’t have to put up with the fallout from failed negotiations. But he really didn’t like the way Thranduil had interrupted the dwarf…it just didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would lead to the successful conclusion of negotiations.

“Jewels and precious metals, I suppose,” Sturla said. “A small share in some of the fine crafts our people produce, in payment for safe passage and help as needed.” He motioned a gray-haired dwarf forward, and this second dwarf held out a box, which he opened to reveal a small pile of gold coins and well-cut gems on top of which rested a lovely golden circlet. Both Thranduil and Oropher stared at the contents of the box with rather obvious desire, Thranduil’s lips parted and Oropher openly licking his own. But then, Thranduil’s eyes darted to Elrond’s face, and he raised an eyebrow. Elrond considered the items in the box, then shrugged a little. If that box was all that was being offered, he felt that the Greenwood elves were being shortchanged. But if it was just a sample of what would be offered, well…then it was probably a decent enough arrangement. But it depended on whether or not Oropher and Thranduil could be convinced to put aside their negative attitude towards the dwarves long enough to see that, or to consider other things, like how much such wealth might benefit their people.

Thranduil reached forward to take the circlet, and though the gray-haired dwarf seemed less than pleased about that, he allowed it to happen. Thranduil held the headpiece up and studied it, turning it this way and that to watch how it caught the light. “This is fine work,” he admitted. “Though, even with the other contents of that chest, hardly enough to justify what you are asking of us.”

“Indeed,” Oropher agreed, though he seemed a touch put out that his son was making such pronouncements. “Though perhaps as a down-payment, of sorts…”

Sturla grumbled more, but nodded. “That is all it is, of course. Just a sample of the riches we would share with you.”

Thranduil nodded and returned the circlet to its box. “I suppose it will suffice as a sign of your goodwill.”

“Quite,” Oropher said. As Thranduil settled back into his throne, the king added, “We shall of course send you back to your own leaders with adequate gifts to seal the bargain. And tonight you shall experience the true hospitality of the Greenwood.”

Sturla and his companions bowed and the gray-haired dwarf handed the box of gifts over to a servant before they were ushered out, grumbling the whole way. Elrond felt sympathy for them, and certainly would have handled the situation a bit differently had he been in charge, but he couldn’t entirely fault Thranduil and Oropher for being cautious. They had, after all, lived through the destruction of Menegroth at the hands of the dwarves, and that had been one of the reasons they left Doriath for Lindon. It was a difficult situation all around, and Elrond felt like he had no answers.

When the dwarves were finally gone, Oropher rubbed his head and sighed, then gave Elrond a long-suffering look. “Dwarves,” he said, as though that explained everything difficult in his life. “Be glad you deal so rarely with them in Lindon.”

“I have no reason to dislike dwarves,” Elrond said, which made Oropher scowl a little. “They have never done me harm.”

“They did plenty of harm in Doriath,” Oropher countered darkly.

“A specific group did harm in Doriath,” Elrond said. “Not these dwarves. Not all dwarves.”

“In any event,” Thranduil interrupted before Oropher could get too worked up, “are we really going to be able to uphold our side of this bargain?”

Oropher considered his son’s question and nodded slowly. “We will have to have some control over which paths they can use, but I see no reason why we cannot secure some paths for our own use and also allow the dwarves to use them. Never fear, I will make sure the terms work in our favor.” He stood and waved servants forward. One nudged Elrond out of his chair and took it away. “Now, I have much to do. Contracts to write, orders to place for continuing work on the castle, preparations for the spring festival…I trust you will be staying for that, Elrond? It should be quite the party this year, coinciding as it does with my son’s begetting day.”

“I…Yes, of course.”

Oropher waved his hand. “It will happen in a week. You will hardly be imposing on our hospitality. But then I think you will be wanting to return to Lindon, no? I’m sure Gil-galad misses his herald.”

Well, I wore out my welcome faster than I thought possible. “Of course, your grace.”

“Now, my son and I have some matters to attend to. In the meantime, I’m sure Galion would be happy to find ways to keep you occupied.” 

Elrond simply bowed, though before he turned away he glanced at Thranduil, who seemed none too pleased by this turn of events. But beyond giving Elrond a quick and almost imperceptible head shake, he showed no reaction. So Elrond did the only thing he could do – allow Galion to lead him out of the great hall and find something for him to do.

*** *** ***

“That didn’t go as badly as it could have,” Thranduil said as he stretched out on Elrond’s bed. The feast with the dwarves had been exhausting, and he was looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

“No,” the other elf agreed as he wrapped his towel around his waist. “But who knew dwarves enjoyed throwing food around so much? It took me three tries to get it all out of my hair.”

Thranduil just shook his head. “I don’t pretend to understand them. I don’t think I ever will.”

Elrond sat on the edge of his bed and rested his hand on Thranduil’s leg, gently rubbing a bit as he watched the blond elf. “Why didn’t you tell me your begetting day was coming?” he asked.

“Didn’t think of it,” Thranduil said. “Adar makes a bigger thing of it than I do.”

“But now I’ll just feel guilty because I have no present for you.”

Thranduil smirked and sat up, leaning closer to kiss Elrond. “Then I guess you have to be a little more creative, if you wish to give me a gift.” 

Elrond laughed and nodded. “That I do…I thought your father would let me stay longer.”

“I had hoped…well. We just have to make the best of it, I suppose.”

“Yes…will you stay here with me tonight?” Elrond asked as he laid down beside Thranduil. The other elf scooted to the side to make sure Elrond had plenty of room, then rolled over and wrapped his arms around his beloved.

“I will,” he said. “Though I should go back to my room for a time, and I’ll have to leave before morning. Adar will be suspicious if he comes looking for me and I’m not there.”

Elrond scowled, but nodded anyway. “Are you sure there’s no convincing you to come to Lindon with me? I can send for you as soon as I return. I’m sure Gil-galad would write any letter I asked of him if it meant you could come back.”

“I’m sure…I am needed here. Perhaps I can visit sometime though…wouldn’t that please you?”

“Your happiness pleases me the most,” Elrond said. “Assure me that you are happy, and I will be too.”


	21. Chapter 20

The week went by far too quickly, and before Elrond knew it, the spring festival and Thranduil’s begetting day arrived. At Thranduil’s urging, Elrond attempted to be helpful (and to make a good impression on Oropher) by helping to decorate the castle. Oropher refused to take him up on his offer, and so for most of the week Elrond wound up spending his free time observing everything from the guards practicing on the archery range to the cooks in the kitchen making meals. Thranduil was mostly occupied with trying to be a good prince. 

Elrond wondered if perhaps Oropher knew more than Thranduil suspected, and was keeping them apart on purpose.

In one of the rare moments that he had alone with Galion, he enlisted the younger elf’s aid in executing a sneaky and potentially dangerous plan. On the morning of the festival, in the very early hours when the sky was lit only by the stars, Galion slipped into Elrond’s room and woke him up, then guided him down the hall to Thranduil’s room and handed him a key.

“Now remember,” he whispered as Elrond looked up and down the hall, “Oropher’s room is just down the hall so if you’re too noisy he might hear you. But chances are he won’t come in to Thranduil’s room today. For big events like this he usually leaves Thranduil to prepare alone since he’s too busy preparing himself. But lock the door and stick the key in there if you really want to be careful.”

“Right,” Elrond whispered back. “Now get out of here before someone finds us and you get in trouble.” Galion nodded, but he waited until Elrond slipped into Thranduil’s room and he heard the lock click behind him before scurrying off to get a head start on the day’s chores. 

Meanwhile, Elrond made sure that Thranduil’s door was securely shut before turning his attention to Thranduil himself. He glanced around, taking the room in. Thranduil’s private room wasn’t as extensive as his chambers in Lindon had been, but it was much larger than Elrond’s guest room. He had several windows, one of which was open to let in fresh air. A table with comfortable chairs sat in one corner, and in the opposite corner stood three mirrors, just beside two doors leading to one or two additional rooms. There was a fireplace against the opposite wall, though there was no fire in it now. And there, in front of the fireplace, facing the open window, was the massive four-poster bed with its thick mattress, gauzy curtains, and pile of furs and blankets in all kinds of gorgeous fabrics on which Thranduil slept. 

The prince had one thin, blue-gray blanket pulled up over his otherwise nude body, held in place against his chest with one hand. The other hand, delicate fingers gently curled in sleep, rested on one of his plush pillows beside his face. Thranduil’s hair was spread out around him like a silvery-gold halo, his pale pink lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling gently as he breathed. Valar, but he was gorgeous like this, so peaceful and oblivious to the world around him. Elrond was tempted to turn around and leave rather than disturb his sleep…but knowing that this was his last real day in the Greenwood with Thranduil made him think twice about altering his plans. He padded across the floor as quietly as he could and rounded the foot of Thranduil’s bed, then carefully settled onto the edge of it. Thranduil didn’t even stir as Elrond sat beside him. The dark-haired elf smiled and brushed his fingers over Thranduil’s cheek, then tucked a lock of hair behind his delicate, leaf-shaped ear before leaning in to give him a tender kiss.

At first, there was absolutely no reaction, but then he heard Thranduil gasp a little and felt the other elf turn away from him. He pulled back to give Thranduil some space, and found the blond elf blinking blearily up at him. But soon confusion gave way to a sweet smile, and he reached up to cup Elrond’s cheek.

“Am I dreaming?” Thranduil whispered. “If I am, I hope I don’t wake up…”

“This is no dream,” Elrond replied. “Or it is, but not the kind we have in our sleep.”

“Mmmm…I like the sound of that.” Thranduil stretched a little, a shockingly sensuous movement that made Elrond’s cheeks flush, then reached up and pulled Elrond closer. “Come here then, and show me what else happens in this waking dream of ours.”

Elrond laid down beside him, and immediately Thranduil was pressed up against him with only the blanket and Elrond’s thin night clothes between them, a delicate hand buried in Elrond’s silky dark hair and his lips raining fiery, sweet kisses on Elrond’s face. Elrond laughed and finally managed to capture Thranduil’s mouth, and the other elf parted his lips to allow Elrond’s tongue entrance almost immediately. Elrond moaned softly into his mouth and gently rubbed his back, and when Thranduil finally broke the kiss and tilted his head back, Elrond trailed light kisses down his throat to his collar bone. 

“Ah, Elrond,” Thranduil murmured, “make love to me like you did by the lake…”

Elrond pushed himself up on his elbow and looked down at Thranduil, and as he did, images of what could happen rose unbidden in his mind. Thranduil, laying beneath him, head turning this way and that in the throes of pleasure, his hair spread around him the way Elrond liked so much. Thranduil’s hands on him – his chest, his back, his sides, his arms, buried in his hair – pulling him ever closer for deep and urgent kisses that sent fire through both of them and left Thranduil with kiss-swollen lips. Thranduil, so hot and tight around him, drawing him ever closer to climax with even the tiniest of movements. Thranduil moaning deeply and crying his name in pleasure…

“What if your father hears?” Elrond asked. “You weren’t exactly quiet last time.”

“I can be quieter this time,” Thranduil replied. He smirked a little and brushed his fingers over Elrond’s nipple. Even through his night shirt, the touch made Elrond hiss a little. “Besides…we might not have another chance before you leave, and I don’t want you to leave without sharing that again…though if you truly do not wish to I understand, and I won’t push the issue.”

Elrond shook his head. “I want to. But I also don’t want to make things worse with your father for you.”

“And you won’t,” Thranduil said. He smiled a little and bit his lower lip. “So…can we?”

“We can. Do you have oil?”

“I have some bath oil by my bathtub…”

Elrond kissed his cheek and rolled out of bed to go retrieve the oil. When he returned, Thranduil was sitting up, his light blanket pushed aside and his hair pulled over his shoulder as he brushed his fingers through it. He looked up when Elrond returned and held a hand out to him. Elrond happily set the oil on one of Thranduil’s beside tables, then took his hand and held it to his chest as he leaned in for another kiss. Thranduil tugged his hand free of Elrond’s grasp and began working at the buttons on his nightshirt, and Elrond chuckled a little. He pulled away from Thanduil and stood again, eyes focused on his beloved as he stripped out of his clothes and set them aside at the foot of the bed. 

Thranduil blushed as he watched, letting his eyes trail over Elrond’s body, following the pattern of light and shadows made by his muscles. Finally, he raised his eyes back to Elrond’s face and lay down on his pillows once more, beckoning for Elrond to join him. As the dark-haired elf moved to kneel between his legs, Thranduil said, “You say we’re both awake, but you seem like something out of a dream to me…”

“Then you know how I feel every time I am with you,” Elrond replied as he stretched out over Thranduil, dipping his head to kiss and nip along his neck and shoulder. “There are so many times I simply cannot believe you are real, and yet, you are…”

Thranduil just laughed a little and turned his head towards Elrond’s, pressing his cheek against the other’s and raising his hands to rest on Elrond’s arms. “I know you like to take your time, but we shouldn’t take too much tonight. The closer we get to morning, the greater our chance of discovery.”

Elrond nodded and reached for the bottle of oil. He popped the cork out of it and set the cork back on the table, then poured a bit of the oil onto his fingers. It smelled like the woodland flowers, like the trees at the lake…like Thranduil. He smiled a little and set the bottle aside as he began to prepare Thranduil, who (true to his word) kept very quiet the whole time, only letting out a soft gasp when he felt Elrond’s fingers first enter him. Elrond, for his part, took as much time as he dared, though it didn’t take long for Thranduil to begin whispering pleas of more to him. Elrond let him plead until the whispers turned to soft, barely-audible whimpers, then spread a generous amount of the oil on himself before slowly pushing into Thranduil.

Thranduil gasped and moaned, pressing his hand over his mouth to help muffle the sound, then let his hand fall away as he panted for breath. Elrond closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of being inside of Thranduil, only coming to when he felt his lover trying to pull him closer. He obliged, slowly lowering himself to lie fully on top of Thranduil, his dark hair falling around their faces like a curtain as he did. He pressed his cheek against Thranduil’s, reveling in the feeling of soft skin and Thranduil’s warm breath on his ear, and when he felt Thranduil relax more beneath him, he finally began to move. The first few thrusts pulled quiet moans and whimpers from the blond elf, and he tried to muffle them against Elrond’s shoulder.

“Oh…a-ai, Elrond, yes…” he whispered, carefully drawing one leg up to wrap around Elrond’s hips.

“Thranduil…” Elrond breathed. He flicked his tongue against the tip of Thranduil’s ear and was rewarded by Thranduil’s arms tightening around him. “Oh Thranduil, my love…my joy…ai, how I love you so…”

Thranduil gasped and arched his back, Elrond’s voice and the full feeling of his lover moving inside of him almost more than he could take at once. “Elrond, I…I can’t…”

“Don’t hold back for me,” Elrond told him. “Let the pleasure take you.”

Thranduil needed no encouragement. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to pull Elrond close, and kissed his lover deeply as his climax washed over him, crying out against Elrond’s mouth. Elrond came soon after, holding himself inside of Thranduil until he was certain they were both spent, and then carefully moved off of him to lay by his side. Thranduil immediately curled up against him, one hand tracing a gentle path up and down Elrond’s spine as he cuddled close.

“Look,” Elrond whispered, “the sun is rising.”

“Mhm,” Thranduil said, lazily turning his head to look out his window. “And the birds are singing…If only we could just stay here like this forever…” He turned to look at Elrond again, blue eyes shining softly in the early morning light. “Did you mean those things you said? About me being your love and your joy?”

Elrond smiled warmly and nodded. “Of course I did.” He sat up a little and looked down at Thranduil, then took one of the other elf’s delicate hands and pressed it to his chest, over his heart. “No other has ever had my heart, and no other ever will. You are my one true love, and…and maybe someday, we can…”

Thranduil laughed a little. “Are you proposing to me?”

“Maybe.” Elrond grinned and blushed. “I don’t know…I just know I hope that someday I don’t ever have to leave you.”

“You would have to live in the Greenwood,” Thranduil said. “And maybe put up with my father.”

“Well, one of those things would be a great pleasure. The other…I would shoulder any burden and fight through any hardship to be by you, if you’ll have me, and give me the chance.”

Thranduil said up and regarded Elrond quite seriously, then nodded slowly. “Someday, then. Someday, we will be able to always be with one another. But until then…”

“You are always in my heart and my thoughts,” Elrond said. Thranduil smiled, and they kissed once more, laying down side by side as the sun’s rays caressed them and the birds sang outside Thranduil’s window.

*** *** ***

Somehow, Elrond felt that the party exactly met his expectations, even though going into it he hadn’t really had any idea of what to expect. He supposed it was just one of those things that he would know when he saw it. And by goodness did he see it.

Oropher transformed his great hall into a feasting hall, complete with long tables groaning under the weight of plates and bowls brimming with the finest food his kitchens could produce. The walls were hung with green banners, many of them plain, though the ones behind the table where he and his son sat were richly embroidered with the crest of Oropher’s Greenwood kingdom, or with images of the Greenwood’s bountiful plant and animal life. To make up for the lack of decoration on some of the banners, Oropher had ordered garlands and bouquets of plants to be made and placed around the room, where they hung from walls and ceiling beams and anywhere else that some intrepid servant though to hang them. The whole thing was lit first with natural light from windows flung wide, and then by fires lit in the room’s great fireplaces and by dozens of candles scattered about every table, placed wherever they would fit amongst the platters of food. And at the head of it all, on the raised platform usually reserved for Oropher’s throne, sat the king and Thranduil at their very own table. As usual, Oropher had chosen a less ostentatious but no less striking look for himself, while Thranduil was practically dripping with gemstones and swathed in fine fabrics. Somehow, as usual, he managed to make it all look very elegant and natural, especially once dinner was over and the dancing began. Elrond chose not to drink much, and waited until everyone else around him seemed quite drunk before daring to ask Thranduil for a dance. And then, realizing that he had to leave early the next day, he took his leave and went to bed.

He awoke shortly before sunrise the following morning to find Thranduil sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him and watching him sleep, a small smile playing over the blond elf’s lips. Elrond grinned at him and reached up to play with his hair.

“Hmm, is it my turn to be surprised in my bed, then?” he asked. “Come to return the favor of yesterday morning?”

Thranduil’s smile faded and he shook his head. “I don’t dare,” he whispered. “After drinking the way he did last night, my father usually rises early with a terrible headache. I’m not going to risk staying in here long enough to be found while he’s in that kind of mood.” 

“Ah. Best not to risk that,” Elrond said. He sat up a bit and Thranduil stopped leaning over him. “Still, you’re here, and we should make the best of it.”

“I just…I came to kiss you goodbye, since I won’t be able to when you actually leave,” Thranduil said. “And I couldn’t let you go without that.”

Elrond reached out and gently placed his hand on the back of Thranduil’s neck, pulling him closer so they could actually kiss. Thranduil leaned into him eagerly, pushing Elrond back against the bed’s headboard and gripping handfuls of Elrond’s nightshirt, his kisses urgent and demanding against the other elf’s lips. Elrond simply wrapped his arms around Thranduil and held him close, his own hands trembling as he stroked the soft blond hair resting on Thranduil’s back and shoulders. Thranduil finally pulled away from him with a sad sigh, letting go of Elrond’s nightshirt as he sat up straight once more. 

“I hate to say it, but you had better plan on leaving as early as possible,” he said. “I’ll see to it that you have breakfast, but after that…”

“Your father really wants me gone, doesn’t he?” Elrond asked. Thanduil simply nodded. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to make things more difficult for you…here, let me get up and dress. You can stay while I do.”

Elrond dressed quickly, then Thranduil helped him pack the last few things he had scattered around his room. He sat down at his dressing table to make use of the last few items there before packing them away too, but when he reached for his hairbrush it wasn’t there. He was about to turn and look for it, when he felt Thranduil’s fingers in his hair…and then Thranduil brushing his hair. Elrond watched Thranduil in the mirror, tilting his head a little as the other elf raised his eyes to meet Elrond’s reflected gaze.

“What are you doing?” Elrond asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

“Doing your hair,” Thranduil replied. “I might as well, I’m here, and it’s so much less awkward that just watching you do it.” He set the brush down and set to work pulling a section of Elrond’s hair back, carefully leaving some of it free in front of Elrond’s ears, and then began braiding it. His deft fingers made quick work of the braid in the back, and then he pulled Elrond to his feet so they were facing each other, and he began working thin braids into the locks he had left free before Elrond’s ears.

Elrond laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Thranduil, keeping his grip loose so the other elf had plenty of room to work. “You’re good at this. Why don’t you ever braid your hair?”

“I like it this way. It was the fashion in Doriath, and my mother always wore her hair like this…” Thranduil replied as he tied the end on one braid, and moved on to the other.

“You never speak of her…do you think she would have…approved of us?”

Thranduil paused, studying the way his fingers and Elrond’s hair intertwined as he worked, then nodded slowly. “I think she would have liked to see me with an elleth, so I could have children,” he finally said, “but I also think she would have preferred a happy son, and if being with you made me happy, she would have approved. Besides, I think she would have liked you.”

Elrond waited until Thranduil finished the second braid, then tightened his arms around the blond elf and held him close. Thranduil’s arms went around his neck, and he could feel the other’s long, delicate fingers tracing a short path up and down his spine as they held each other. “You’ll come to me in Lindon sometime, won’t you?”

“If I can. You know how Adar is…”

“Of course I do.” Elrond kissed his cheek and finally let go of him, packed his brush and last few toiletries away, then sighed. “Well…I guess there’s nothing left to do but have breakfast and let me escape his wrath.”

Breakfast was mostly a silent affair. Just as Thranduil had predicted, his father was hung over and grumpy, and Oropher barely even acknowledged Elrond’s presence at the table. He was no better after breakfast, when Elrond appeared in his study to officially thank the king for his hospitality before leaving. Thranduil was utterly mortified, and though Elrond repeatedly assured him that he wasn’t at all offended by Oropher’s behavior, Thranduil apologized right up until the moment Elrond mounted his horse to leave. He quickly relaxed when Elrond leaned down and stole one last kiss.

“Write to me as soon as you’re home safely,” Thranduil said.

“Of course,” Elrond said. “I would never let you wonder like that.” And then he was off, leaving Thranduil behind.


	22. Interlude: Letters Through the Years

My beloved, more beautiful than any star,

 

     You will be pleased to know that, by the time this letter reaches you, I and my traveling companions will have been safe in Lindon for several weeks. The trip home was uneventful and terribly boring. Our _arrival_ , on the other hand…well, Gil-galad wasn’t expecting us back so soon, and when I told him about your father telling me to leave he was rather furious. If your father thought that sending me home early was going to encourage the High King himself to visit the Greenwood in the future, he will be terribly disappointed. The best he’ll get for many long years to come is me, I’m afraid.

     In any case, I was still feeling guilty about not having a proper gift for you on your begetting day, so as soon as I could I found some books I thought you might like. I noticed that the library in your father’s stronghold was sparse, so I thought you might be desperate for something to occupy yourself. You should find a nice little collection here – some poetry books, some useful books on herbalism and other crafts, a few histories…perhaps something a little more risqué as well. For your eyes only, of course. If there is anything in particular you want, let me know and I’ll see if I can get it for you.

     Take care of yourself and make sure you escape to your lake often.

 

All my love,

Elrond

 

 

My dearest,

 

     Someday you will run out of compliments for me and _then_ what will you do??

     I’m only joking, of course. I know the words are sincere when they come from you, and they warm my heart. I miss you terribly, but I’m glad you’re safe in Lindon. I would rather have you safe and far from me than on the roads and possibly in danger. Of course the ideal situation would be safe _with_ me…

     I read that one book you sent, and then I had to stay in my own room for a few hours after to…ah…recover. Where did you even find that? …I wonder if everything in it is possible…Anyway, the rest of the books are now in our library and I know many people are making use of them. The herbalism books in particular have been quite popular lately. I’m so glad you thought to send them all along. Asking for more almost feels like taking advantage of you, but if you could find me some books on Doriath, and particularly the architecture of Menegroth, I would appreciate it. I find myself missing that place a lot lately…It’s so strange. I feel oddly homesick so often. It was better when you were here, but without you, this fortress doesn’t truly feel like home to me. Maybe I just need more time to settle in.

     I think I’ll go to the lake tomorrow. I haven’t been in a while. It would be a wonderful diversion from the dullness of the castle.

     Take care of yourself, my love, and come see me again soon, if you can.

 

Love,

Thranduil

 

***   ***   ***

 

My love,

 

     Good news! Gil-galad is planning to send me back to the Greenwood. I think he intends for this trip to put me in your father’s good graces. It seems he thinks the intervening months may have changed your father’s attitude towards me, though I remain skeptical. Gil-galad will send me with gifts this time. I suspect it will not work, but…well. I can hardly complain, as every opportunity to visit the Greenwood is an opportunity to see you, and these days, that is all I wish for.

     Someone new has moved into your old chambers, and it made me terribly sad to see. I knew they couldn’t be empty forever, but it was a nice place to go when I missed you, and now I no longer can. I suppose it was my lake, and now I need to find a new one.

     In any event, is there anything you wish for me to bring you from Lindon? Other than myself, of course. Perhaps more books for your library? Let me know. I know this message is short but I have much to finish before my upcoming trip to your home, so please forgive me.

 

Yours always,

Elrond

 

 

My darling,

 

     Your visit cannot come soon enough for me. In fact, a part of me sincerely hopes you became too impatient to wait for my reply and simply set out on your own. I miss you so much every day and never seem to know what to do about it. We had the most glorious weather recently and so I went to the lake, where I spent a wonderful afternoon indulging my fantasies of being with you to the best of my ability. It’s not the same alone, of course, but I suspect I hardly have to tell you that.

     I need no present from Lindon other than you, love. But if you haven’t already chosen something for my father, I suggest a good wine. He loves wine, you know (perhaps a little too much) and I think he would be impressed with anyone who could choose a fine one. And if that fails, there’s always jewelry. But for me, you know that I always love a new book. I’m certain I have read every one here many times by now.

     I want to see this message sent off as soon as possible, just in case you are truly waiting for it before setting out. But please don’t wait long after you receive it. I’m not so patient when it comes to you.

 

All my love,

Thranduil

 

***   ***   ***

 

My beloved Thranduil,

 

     I hope you, your father, and your people remain safe in the Greenwood. We here in Lindon have been hearing odd tidings out of Eregion about a being calling himself Annatar. Many seem to like him, but neither Gil-galad nor I trust him. I have heard that the lady Galadriel doesn’t trust him either. I doubt he will ever make his way to Mirkwood, but you should be on your guard just in case. If there is any way to convince your father to be cautious, please do. I know it’s difficult for you to convince your father of anything these days, and that much of what you accomplish for your people is done behind his back or with great effort, so please know that I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t incredibly important.

     I have also heard of dark stirrings in Mordor, and given how close Mordor is to the Greenwood, I have to admit that those rumors worry me far more than any out of Eregion. After all, you are in the Greenwood. Gil-galad and I spoke about Mordor recently and he asked me to assure you that any request you make for aid will be honored as best we are able to honor it. He understands that going directly to your father to offer aid would be…pointless, and that we are unlikely to ever get a formal request from him, so instead our offer goes to you personally and any request you would make will be honored as though it came from the king.

     But enough of business. I miss you so much, and I have no idea when I will be able to come to the Greenwood again. Our last visit was much too short, though fortunately it was longer than the first time I came to see you. You know, I still have dreams about our night camping by the river…I never knew you could cook, really. Wherever did you learn how? I’m lucky if I can toast bread and boil water without burning them.

     I must cut this letter short. I’m being called away and the messenger is waiting on me, and I don’t wish to keep him. I want this to reach you as soon as possible. Take care of yourself, my love.

 

Yours always,

Elrond

 

 

My heart,

 

     I think the next time you visit, it should be at the very beginning of winter. That way you can stay for weeks and weeks, and even Adar won’t be able to push you out. It’s not your fault if the weather is too bad for safe travel, right? And in the winter, it is more likely to be that way…See, this is a good plan! And if we’re sneaky enough we can keep each other warm every night. Speaking of Adar, he did appreciate the gift of fine Lindon wine you brought, so I think that might be why he tolerated you longer this time. Bring a few barrels of a prized Dorwinion vintage next time and he might let you stay even longer.

     As for the cooking, you remember Belion and his settlement, yes? I have learned many skills from them. But I must say that burning water is actually an impressive feat, you should show me sometime. (Please, tell me you laughed at that...)

     Unfortunately, the stirrings you have heard from Mordor are most likely true. It seems that Sauron is building a tower there. Trying to decide how to handle it is proving difficult. Adar prefers to simply wait and see…it makes me so nervous, but at the same time the idea of sending our army against him is terrifying. I don’t think we have enough soldiers to defeat the likes of Sauron. It is true that the army grows stronger and larger every day, as new young recruits join and old and new warriors alike continue their training, but still…we certainly have nothing like the armies of Lindon. And the very idea of marching off frightens me, to be honest. I tell you in the strictest of confidence – if our army marched tomorrow, or any other day, of course I would go. As the prince of the Greenwood that is my duty. But I fear I might make a fine coward in a true war. I still remember the War of Wrath and have nightmares of it. I don’t think I could handle a second such war.

     I’m sending you some fine skins and herbs from the forest, as well as some samples of various healing poultices the Silvan elves use. I thought you and your healers might be interested in studying them. They are quite effective, at least against relatively minor injuries.

     Be safe, as always, and come to me soon if you can.

 

All my love,

Thranduil

 

***   ***   ***

 

My true love,

 

     I have much of importance to tell you in this letter. I fear it will be a long time before I am safely able to write to you again. But first, I wanted to share with you the glorious dream I had last night.

     I’m not sure where we were. It seemed like your lake, but at the same time was quite different. But wherever it was, we were safe from the prying eyes and ears of others. You must have arrived quite some time before me, because by the time I got there, you had set up the most inviting little camp for us – a lovely tent, open to a view of the lake and filled with comfortable mats and pillows and gorgeous furs for us, with tiny, beautiful lanterns shedding a warm light on the scene. But I paid little attention to that, for of course you were there, dressed in a soft robe of silver that barely hid any aspect of you from me…As I approached you smiled and held out your arms, and the next thing I knew I was completely lost in your embrace and your kisses.

     When we parted, you began to undress me. It was an easy task for you, of course…I must confess that I don’t remember the details of it, only that in what seemed like an instant I was naked before you and the evidence of my desire was clear to us both. And as you kissed me once more, your hand was on me, touching me in that most intimate way we have shared so often before…ai, Thranduil, I thought I would be undone then and there, but it wasn’t to be, for you (fortunately) had other plans. You drew away from me and turned your back to shed your robe, and it fell to a silvery puddle around your feet. Before you could turn to me once more, I went to you and held you close, my hands on your stomach as I kissed along your shoulders and felt that glorious hair of yours brushing against my cheeks. You leaned back against me and placed your hands over my own, and I felt that I could have stayed there like that forever, just holding you. But then you pulled away from me once more and took me by the hand to lead me to the tent, where you pushed me down onto the furs and pillows and kissed me once more. I could feel your hands in my hair and on my body, one of them inching ever downwards…but it was my turn to have other plans, and I took you in my arms and rolled you underneath me.

     You seemed quite happy there, I should say, as your moans of desire made quite clear to me. But I wasn’t about to let you go quickly this time. I wished to know if all of your skin was as soft and smooth under my lips as that of your shoulders, and I set about discovering that. I don’t think an inch of your torso or arms or those beautiful thighs of yours escaped my kisses, and before long you were absolutely begging me for more, your fingers tangled in my hair so tightly that it almost hurt me. And then I became even more curious…what would happen if I used my mouth on your length? So, overcome by both the desire to find out and the desire to give you the greatest pleasure possible, I drew my tongue along the entire underside of your length. Goodness, but the sounds that fell from your perfect lips when I did that were sounds the likes of which I have never heard before. I repeated this action a few times, and each time you seemed to enjoy it even more, but soon you were begging me with absolute desperation to be inside of you again.

     I simply couldn’t deny you any longer, and after making use of the oil you had brought, I pushed inside of you. As always, you felt so hot and tight around me, and for a moment I thought that once again I would be undone in an untimely manner, but somehow that was not to be the case. I soon found myself thrusting into you with long, slow strokes, and your arms were around me once again, your hands exploring all along my back as you moaned and whimpered encouragements to me. I could feel you moving with me, urging us both ever closer to climax. As you reached yours, you tossed your head back and cried out my name, over and over, clinging to me as you shuddered and spilled your seed between us.

     I never reached mine in the dream. Shortly after you finished, I awoke, and felt very grateful to finally have quarters of my own here, because it made the waking up much less awkward and more pleasurable for me. And then, after cleaning myself up, I sat down to write to you.

     I have never written anything like this to you or anyone else…I only hope I haven’t overstepped any boundaries. The unfortunate thing is that it may be a long time before I know if I did or not, because now I’m afraid I have to write the “business” portion of my letter. Thranduil, I’m being sent to Eregion. You may know by now that Eregion is besieged by Sauron, and I am being sent to help if I can. I will try to write to you while there, at least enough to let you know I still live, but I can’t guarantee that it will be possible for me to get any messages out to you. So please, my love…I know I can’t ask you not to worry, but at least try not to panic too much if you don’t hear from me in a long time.

   And have every faith that should something happen to me, I will still find a way back to you, even if I have to fight Mandos himself for quick release from his halls.

     Take care of yourself, and watch for trouble around the Greenwood. I have faith in you and your ability to care for everyone within your realm.

 

All my love for all eternity,

Elrond

 

 

Elrond,

 

     I don’t know what you wrote to Thranduil but it made everything from the neck up bright red, even his _ears_. Valar, I wish someone would write me a letter like that sometime. Anyway, just thought you might like to know. Don’t worry, his father didn’t see it. Good thing your name never comes up in conversation with ol’ Oropher…I mentioned you to Thranduil a couple of days after he got the letter and his ears went all red again.

 

Find me an elf maid to write a letter like that sometime,

Galion (oh, and take care of yourself and all that)

 

 

Beloved of my heart,

 

     Say the word and I will march every soldier in the Greenwood to your side. This is a threat that cannot be ignored and I will gladly defy my father to ensure your safety and the safety of all in Eregion.

     You’re right, you can’t ask me not to worry. But know that I worry out of pure love for you. The day I stop worrying for you…well, that day will never come, so I won’t even think of what it would mean. Keep yourself safe, as much as you can.

     The next time I see you, I’ll see about getting a little tent on the lake so we can make your dream come true.

 

Love always,

Thranduil


	23. Chapter 21

     “Thranduil?” Galion said softly from the door to the prince’s bedroom. “Are you hungry? I can bring you some food…you really should eat something, you know.”

     “I’m never going to see him again, am I?” Thranduil moaned from somewhere within the nest of pillows he had made for himself on his bed. “I don’t know if I can do that, Galion…”

     The younger elf sighed and shut the door behind him, then went to sit on Thranduil’s bed. Even from there he couldn’t see the blond elf buried within the pillows and blankets, so he simply addressed the pile. “Thranduil, it’s only been a few years, that’s nothing for an elf or a creature like Sauron…you can’t give up so easily. Can you imagine how Elrond would feel if he came marching in here, victorious and ready to celebrate, and found you all wasted away or worse?”

     A pillow fell off of the pile, and through the hole it left behind Galion could see part of Thranduil’s face. “I just hate sitting here doing nothing,” Thranduil’s pillow-muffled voice said. “I want to be useful, to help…But Adar is so stubborn and doesn’t want to get involved in anything outside of the Greenwood if he can help it…”

     “To be fair, he is actually following Elrond’s advice by focusing on our own safety here,” Galion replied. Thranduil just scowled at him, so he sighed and said, “Alright then, what do you want to do?”

     More pillows fell away, revealing more of Thranduil as they went. “All the reports say that he has been under siege in that Imladris place of his for almost three years now, right? I’m sure they need supplies. And with enough of an army to help, perhaps they could defeat the forces besieging them…didn’t that escaped messenger say it was only a portion of Sauron’s army there? That the rest had gone up to Lindon?”

     “I think so,” Galion said. “But still, do we have enough strength to fight even a part of his army?”

     “Perhaps not…we can’t count on Elrond’s army to be strong enough to help. They _have_ been under siege too, and many of them are refugees from Eregion according to that messenger, so they’ve already been through the mill.” Thranduil frowned a little. “But still. Gil-galad must have some kind of plan, and I wouldn’t put it past him to be preparing help for Elrond now…You know, if we got close enough and realized it wasn’t something we could help with, there is always the option of just…turning around and coming back.”

     Galion snorted. “Like you could abandon Elrond like that.”

     “Maybe not me personally, no, but I could easily send everyone else back, and they would have to listen to me.”

     The aide flopped down on the bed next to Thranduil and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, it’s all kind of a moot point, isn’t it? Your father will never agree to it.”

     “That’s why we’re not going to tell him,” Thranduil said. He sat up and looked at Galion, appearing far more determined and vital than he had in months. “I need you to find Belion, and some of the other commanders. Anyone you know to be loyal to me, and willing to follow me in spite of my father. Have them meet me after Adar goes to bed in…well, I suppose the wine cellars will work. I will present the basic plan to them myself, and see what they say.”

     Galion still doubted that the plan would work at all, but he agreed to it and left to do as Thanduil asked. Thranduil, meanwhile, dressed and made an appearance in the kitchen to get something to eat. It was going to be a long night, and he needed all the strength he could get.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The night they chose to leave turned out to be rainy and hot. Thranduil decided that the rain was good, as it would make them more difficult to track (he hoped) and the sounds of the storm going on above the Greenwood would help mask the noises of his small army marching out. As a precaution, he had plied his father with extra wine at dinner, and the older elf had retired to bed early. Galion reported that Oropher was sleeping like a rock. If they hurried, and took the shortest path out of the forest, Thranduil was sure they could be out of the Greenwood and well on their way before Oropher woke up the next morning.

     At least, that was the plan, and he hoped the rain wouldn’t interfere.

     With the last of his personal supplies strapped to his horse and a cape slung over his armor, he was finally ready to be off. To one side rode Belion (long since made a captain in the Greenwood guard) and Belion’s most trusted soldiers, while to his other side rode Galion and one of the healers who had caught wind of Thranduil’s plan and had approached him to volunteer her services. All around them marched the soldiers and those in charge of the supplies they were transporting to Imladris. Each elf there knew they were risking life, limb, and Oropher’s wrath on their mission, and each one had volunteered almost instantly at the mere mention that Thranduil was behind it.

     Thranduil wasn’t sure if that made him more proud or terrified.

     “What do you think the king will do when he finds out what you have done?” Belion asked softly.

     “I…have no idea, to be honest. I am counting on him not following us,” Thranduil replied. “And if not that, then assuming we went to Lindon. That may at least set him on the wrong path for a time.”

     “We will all stand by you, no matter what happens,” Belion said. “There are soldiers here who were mere elflings when they first met you and Elrond, and remember you both quite fondly.”

     “…I would not have them die on this venture, Belion,” Thranduil replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

     “We are marching to war, my prince,” Belion said. His use of the formal title startled Thranduil, but Belion ignored his reaction and continued, “I do not wish to see them die either, but it is a risk when one goes off to fight another force, is it not? Everyone here needs to accept that if we are to be successful…including you.”

     Thranduil nodded. “I understand. Let us hope that when we arrive in Imladris we have an easy fight, or no fight at all.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Despite their haste, it still took them weeks to make it to Imladris. None except the escaped messenger who had brought news of the siege truly knew the way, and while he had provided Thranduil with a very detailed map, he had refused to join the mission. And of course, Thranduil wished to avoid the besieging army as much as possible, and insisted on finding alternate routes the closer they came to Imladris. He knew that, sooner or later, he would have to face down Sauron’s forces, but he wanted to move undetected for as long as possible. Finally, when they got close enough that he knew there was no way to avoid the orc army’s attention any longer, he stopped the bulk of his force and called for volunteers to scout ahead. Enough volunteers presented themselves that he simply had Belion pick several at random, and the scouts disappeared through trees and around rocks to gather their information. The wait for their return felt excruciatingly long to Thranduil, though the position of the sun overhead showed that only an hour or two had passed. Even so, when they finally came back to make their report, Thranduil was filled with tension – one was missing.

     “Your report?” Belion asked.

     “Imladris itself seems undamaged,” an auburn-haired elf said. “Aside from the bridges in and out, that is. They are all either destroyed or far too well-guarded for anyone to use. But I could not get close enough to really tell if any buildings beyond had suffered damage.”

     “All seems quiet within as well,” a second elf added. “It’s almost as if nobody is there.”

     A third elf raised her hand in an almost timid manner. “I observed the orcs,” she said. “They are well-armed, but…well, they _have_ been here for a long time, laying siege to this place. Surely they’re growing tired or bored, and we can use that to our advantage.”

     The auburn-haired elf added, “What I saw of their forced did seem easily distracted.”

     “Orcs are orcs, I will not assume they will be easily defeated because of boredom,” Thranduil said. “There was one more that went with you. What happened to her?”

     The returned messengers all looked at one another and seemed to have a silent battle over who would answer Thranduil’s question. Finally, the second one spoke up. “She said she wanted to find a high place to observe everything, and to see into the distance. So she went looking for a hill…we haven’t seen her since.”

     Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes. Well, that was one lost, he supposed. If she hadn’t come back by now, he thought it best to assume that she never would, rather than get his hopes up. “Alright then,” he finally said, “I suppose we have to work with what you have told me. Our best course of action is probably to flank them from –“

     “Look!” Galion said. “She’s back!” And indeed, when Belion and Thranduil looked where the aide pointed, they saw the last of the scouts, huffing and puffing as she scrambled back to their position, her face shining in excitement.

     “I saw the king!” she said, and for a moment Thranduil went cold, assuming she meant Oropher. But she clarified, “He was marching towards us with a huge army of Elves and Men! I think the orcs saw him too, they were beginning to rally and prepare for battle!”

     “If Gil-galad is truly coming, the battle will begin soon and we might not have to flank anyone. Assuming they all turn towards the threat they know, we’ll be behind the orcs,” Belion said.

     Thranduil nodded slowly, then turned to his captain. “Belion, I want you to stay here with Galion and a small portion of the army to protect the supplies we brought. I intend to get those supplies to Imladris even if the rest of us die in battle, and if for some reason things go so badly that we lose to the orcs, I want you to try to get these things back to the Greenwood, where they can still be of use.” Belion nodded and wheeled around to select his soldiers and relay Thranduil’s orders.

     “Why do I have to stay here? I want to go with you,” Galion groused.

     Thranduil reached out to give his shoulder a quick squeeze. “And I would love to bring you, but you barely know how to wield any weapon, Galion. You would be a liability to anyone who had to take care of you out there…I can’t have that. Besides, you’ll be safer back here.”

     Galion acquiesced, but continued to grumble. He didn’t fall silent until the distant sounds of battle, difficult to detect even with their Elven ears, reached them. Then he just gulped a little and turned to look in the direction of the battle, even though there was no way he could see any of it through the foliage hiding them from view. Finally, though, the moment came when Thranduil and most of the army were to march out, and he reached out to grip his friend’s hand.

     “Come back,” he said. “I mean it.”

     “I’ll do my best,” Thranduil replied. “Remember, if things go badly for us down there, you and the others turn right around and make for the Greenwood again.” And with that, Thranduil and his army went off to join the fight.

     When they got close enough to see and assess the situation for themselves, they realized that their information had been slightly inaccurate. It turned out that the orcs were already facing two armies – one led by Gil-galad, whose banners were visible even from such a distance, and one unknown force that Thranduil assumed belonged to Elrond. And sure enough, the orcs weren’t even bothering to make sure nothing could sneak up from behind. Thranduil was grateful – he would have surprise on his side, if only for a few moments. He hoped it would be enough.

     Thranduil raised one hand and they halted for a moment. He turned to look at his soldiers one last time, then signaled a charge. His army surged around him, racing towards the orcs, and suddenly they crashed into the opposing force like a bright wave on a rocky shore. Thranduil watched for a moment before following, drawing one of his swords and immediately slashing at the first orc who dared to approach him. The creature fell instantly, and Thranduil sought his next target. Before him, the great field full of orcs seemed insurmountably huge, but every so often he caught a glimpse of Gil-galad’s banners or Elrond’s forces in the distance, or he turned to see his soldiers fighting valiantly beside him, and he felt a renewed sense of determination.

     It would be a long battle. But it would be worthwhile in the end, too.


	24. Chapter 22

     Thranduil had thought his entrance into Imladris would feel much more…heroic than this. It wasn’t that he had expected cheering crowds or anything like that, but he had expected such things as being able to ride in on his horse or someone there to greet him. But he had lost his horse in battle and had clearly over-estimated what could be expected of his hosts by way of post-battle greetings. Not that he blamed them. His walk from the battlefield, over a crumbling bridge, and into Imladris had revealed much damage to the buildings, and more injured or dead elves and humans than he could count. He was quite content to forgive the residents of Imladris for focusing on things more important than greeting the random golden-haired elf marching uninvited into their midst.

     But at the same time, having someone to greet him would have made things so much easier, because the moment he crossed the valley into Imladris, Thranduil realized he had no idea where to go. For that matter, he had no idea if Elrond had even returned yet…or if he ever would…He stopped in an empty square and turned on the spot, trying to decide where to go. Moments later, and much to his relief, a young brown-haired elf tried to scurry past with a basket full of bandages and bottled medicines. Thranduil reached out and grabbed his arm and was rewarded with a wide-eyed, slightly frightened look.

     “Any news of Elrond?” Thranduil asked.

     “Lord Elrond is in his study,” the young elf replied.

     “…And where would that be?” he asked, trying so hard not to be impatient with the poor frightened thing.

     The brown-haired elf shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting between the way he had come and the place he had been going to when Thranduil stopped him. “It’s…well, it’s…” he began, clearly torn between leading Thranduil like a proper helper and finishing his previously assigned task.

     “Just tell me how to get there,” Thranduil said. “I’m sure I can manage it myself with good directions.

     The other elf’s stopped shifting on his feet and his eyes closed in relief at Thranduil’s orders. When he opened his eyes again, he turned and pointed in the direction he had come from. “Through there, then turn left, take the first staircase up, and it should be the first double doors on your right. If not there are plenty of people milling around inside who can direct you.”

   “Thank you…er…”

     “Lindir, my lord.”

     “Lindir, then. Thank you.” Thranduil didn’t wait for an answer and made no move to correct Lindir’s use of the “lord” title. He simply rushed off in the direction the younger elf had given him, and within moments he found himself before the wide-open doors of Elrond’s study. He stopped, reaching out to grip the door jamb as he looked inside. He had no idea what he would see there, and in his nervousness it felt as though a great writhing mass had taken the place of his stomach. They hadn’t seen each other in three years, maybe even longer (Thranduil had eventually stopped counting)…Other than a war, what had happened to Elrond in those years? And what had those things done to him?

     The study was large and mostly empty, with only a few tomes and scrolls and other objects to fill a small portion of the vast bookshelves there, and no furnishings other than a rickety desk and a few mismatched chairs. The room didn’t quite look finished, though even in its rather messy and unfinished state it looked surprisingly majestic. The wall opposite the doors was wide open, providing a lovely view of the valley…and there, silhouetted in the light, stood Elrond. He was facing out and had his hands clasped behind his back, and his hair, armor, and cape were all splattered with mud and blood. His clothes had seen better days, and as Thranduil took a few tentative steps closer he could clearly see the holes in the cape and the various scuff marks and dents in the armor. Elrond sighed a little and bowed his head, and as he did, he seemed to sway unsteadily on his feet. Thranduil threw caution to the wind and dashed forward, grabbing Elrond by the shoulders to steady him. The sudden contact startled Elrond. He jerked away and had nearly managed to draw his sword before he got a good look at his visitor.

     “…Thranduil?” he breathed. “Is…is it really you?”

   “It is,” Thranduil replied, just as quietly. “Elrond…I…” He didn’t get a chance to finish. Elrond was in his arms in moments, leaning heavily against him and clinging to him. Thranduil slowly wrapped his arms around Elrond, whispering soothing words in his ears. Elrond felt surprisingly fragile, almost frail, to him, and much lighter than Thranduil ever remembered him being. “When was the last time you ate properly?” he finally asked.

     “A long time,” Elrond said against his neck. “It has been a long siege…and we had few resources.”

     Thranduil sighed and tightened his grip on Elrond, squeezing his own eyes shut and fighting back his rising anger. Hadn’t he told his father over and over that they should send supplies to Imladris? That it was worth the risk if anything at all got through? And Oropher had just told him no, time and time again…

     “I can’t believe your father let you come,” Elrond said, his voice thick with emotion. “I just…I can’t believe you’re _here_. However did you convince him?” He pulled back and studied Thranduil’s face, his own eyes sparkling with as yet unshed tears.

     Thranduil took in the gauntness of Elrond’s dirt- and blood-streaked cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. “He…didn’t. I left without telling him. It was more important for me to help you than to keep him happy.”

     Elrond laughed and hugged him again. “Ah, what does it matter, I’m just so happy to see you again!”

     Thranduil nuzzled Elrond’s hair, then gently urged him to sit down in one of the random chairs. “We should get you out of this armor, and get a proper meal in your belly. You’ll feel much better then.”

     “No, my people need something first, distribute the supplies to them.”

     “You’ll do them no good if you’re sick and too hungry to concentrate properly,” Thranduil said. “Imladris needs repairs, and the people need a strong leader, so if it means you get your fair share of the supplies I’m going to make sure that happens.” Elrond opened his mouth to protest, but Thranduil just pressed a finger to his lips. “And if you complain that much, you’ll get _my_ rations. I can stand to skip a few meals.”

     Elrond finally just nodded and closed his eyes. “I suppose arguing with you _is_ pointless…”

     “Of course it is. I defied my father, you don’t scare me either!” Thranduil laughed. “Just stay here, I’m going to go find some food for you. And then you can get some rest. I’m sure that between Gil-galad and I, we can run Imladris while you nap.”

     He made it all the way back to the courtyard, and was pleased to find that the members of his company had been busy while he was searching for Elrond. Luckily they had brought many of their supplies into the open areas already, and Thranduil caught sight of Galion and the young elf from before ( _What was his name…Lin…Lind…Oh, right, Lindir_ ) busily setting up tents for those who had no other place to sleep. He went over to them, and almost immediately was met by the same wide-eyed look from Lindir. Galion, for his part, just kept working.

     “You don’t have to look so frightened of me, you know,” Thranduil said to Lindir.

     “Not frightened,” Lindir replied. “Just a bit awed. Your soldiers told me that you’re Thranduil Oropherion…we never expected help from the Greendwood elves. Lord Elrond said King Oropher would most likely never send any, but here you are.”

     “Yes, well, we can talk about how amazing and wonderful that is later,” Thranduil said dryly. “Galion, I need food.”

     Galion stood up and stretched his back a little, then looked around and pointed to a bright blue tent that had been set up near a fountain. “Food should be there,” he said. “They wanted to be near water so they didn’t have to lug buckets all the time.”

     Thranduil nodded. “Right.” And with that he headed off to the blue kitchen tent, where he was soon laden down with lembas, fruit, a few skewers of grilled meat, and a full water skin, all of which he carted back to Elrond’s study. The dark-haired elf wasn’t alone when Thranduil returned. In the time he had been gone, Gil-galad had arrived, and he currently sat in one of the free chairs. He turned to look over his shoulder when Thranduil entered, and the young prince barely had any time to set the food on Elrond’s desk before Gil-galad was on his feet and embracing Thranduil like an uncle embracing his favorite, long-lost nephew.

     “Just when I thought this day could get no better, you arrive,” the high king said. “I thought I saw another army across the field, but things were…rather busy on my side, so I had no chance to consider who it might be. Elrond tells me your father did not give you his blessing to be here.”

     “He did not,” Thranduil said. “I came anyway.”

     Gil-galad smiled and cupped Thranduil’s face in his hands for a moment. “Perhaps going to the Greenwood was good for you after all,” he murmured. “I could never have imagined you defying him in such a way when you lived in Lindon.”

     “Being in the Greenwood isn’t what gave me the strength to do this,” Thranduil said. Gil-galad simply nodded and took his seat once more, motioning for Thranduil to join them. The young prince sat, then pushed the food towards Elrond. “Eat something,” he said.

     Elrond picked at some of the fruit. “So what has come of all this?” he asked. “We lost Eregion, but now have Imladris. We lost many on the field of battle, this day alone…but it seems that Sauron’s forces have been severely reduced.”

     “Yes, a decisive victory for us,” Gil-galad said. “But I think it would be foolish of us to assume that it is a _permanent_ victory.” He tapped his finger on the desk to emphasize his point. “We must remember that Sauron’s _armies_ , not Sauron himself, were defeated, and armies can be rebuilt.”

     “He has already begun to build his strength in Mordor,” Thranduil said. “It is about the only thing outside of the Greenwood that my father pays attention to.”

     “Wise of him,” Elrond said, and both Thranduil and Gil-galad could clearly hear the bitterness in his voice. “I hope Sauron leaves the Greenwood be, of course,” he added, “but at the same time I fear your father’s complacency.”

     Gil-galad turned his attention to Thranduil and rubbed his chin a little. “And yet…Thranduil here seems very much aware of the threat…and he has enough pull within the Greenwood to raise his own army. A small army, certainly, but an army nonetheless, and one that can now march home as heroes. Oropher might choose to close himself off and ignore outside threats. Thranduil, though, would seem to be another matter.”

     “Yes, it’s a good thing that Thranduil elf lives in the Greenwood and pays attention to things other than his hair and his pretty crowns,” Thranduil replied, though the way his lips twitched into a smile took the sting out of his words, and both Elrond and Gil-galad chuckled.

     “In any event,” Elrond said, “we must now turn our attention to deciding what to do with Imladris, and towards whatever must be done to return our forces to full strength.”

     “With Eregion gone, we could use another Elvish stronghold outside of Lindon,” Gil-galad said. “And I doubt very strongly that Oropher wishes to place the Greenwood under me again.” He glanced to Thranduil, who simply nodded in agreement. “So why not make Imladris the new Elvish stronghold? I understand some here are already calling you Lord, Elrond. If you would accept becoming one officially, I would be more than happy to help you build up your stronghold.”

     “I…it would be my honor,” Elrond replied, though he looked a bit stunned at the king’s offer.

   “We can stay and help as well,” Thranduil said. “For a time at least. I do have to return and face my father eventually.”

     “Well, that settles things then,” Gil-galad said. He looked between his two young friends, then stood and clapped them both on the shoulder. “I shall return to my camp and begin making arrangements for my army’s return to Lindon and for some to stay here to help you finish building this place. But I’m sure you two want to be left alone for a bit, so on my way out I’ll take the liberty of instructing everyone to leave you alone.” He smiled warmly at them. “We can speak more tomorrow.”

     Thranduil and Elrond sat in companionable silence for a long time after Gil-galad left, Elrond working his way through the fruit and meat and Thranduil nibbling on a piece of lembas to keep Elrond happy. But finally, Thranduil noticed the dark-haired elf starting to nod off in mid-meal, and he got up to go to Elrond’s side.

     “You’re falling asleep,” he said. “Let me help you to your room and get you cleaned up so you can get a good night’s rest.”

     “That sounds amazing,” Elrond replied. “I haven’t slept properly since this all started either…never knew when those blasted orcs were going to attack, you know…”

     “I know.” It took a bit of prodding, but Thranduil finally got Elrond out of his chair. “Point me in the right direction. Where do you sleep?”

     “Next room over,” Elrond muttered, waving vaguely to the hallway. Thranduil just nodded and half-carried Elrond into the hall and down to the next door, which he was grateful to find open. He brought Elrond to the bed, then backtracked long enough to shut the door before going back to help Elrond out of his armor.

     “Do you have the energy for a quick bath?” he asked. “You’re…well. You’re covered in dirt and blood.”

     Elrond nodded. “If you help me and don’t let me drown.”

     “I could never let you drown,” Thranduil replied, and for the first time since seeing Elrond, he finally leaned in for a gentle kiss. Elrond let out a soft moan and rested his hand on Thranduil’s arm, and when the kiss ended, he let his head fall to Thranduil’s shoulder.

     “I have no idea how I made it this long without you,” he murmured. “I…tried to write to you sometimes, but I don’t think you ever got the letters…”

     “I didn’t,” Thranduil said as he brought Elrond into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. “I thought about writing to you, but it seemed dangerous given the siege.” He looked around and sighed. “I have to get water now, great.”

     Elrond sat on the edge of his tub and leaned against the wall. “Go call for Lindir and Erestor, they can help you,” he said. “Have you met them yet?”

   “Lindir, yes. He seems a little timid to me.”

     Elrond chuckled. “He’s young yet, he’ll grow out of it.” Thranduil just shook his head a little and went off to find the other two elves, who spent the next several minutes ferrying buckets of steaming-hot water into Elrond’s bathroom so they could fill the tub. Erestor then insisted on helping Thranduil out of his own armor, and with Lindir’s help he took both sets off for repairs and cleaning. For his part, Thranduil set to work scrubbing every bit of dirt and blood off of Elrond, then carefully dried him off and helped him back to bed. He discovered that at some point, someone had come in and left his pack with all of his personal items, and had also thought to lay out clean night clothes for both of them. The two elves dressed, then crawled under the thin blankets of Elrond’s simple bed and snuggled close together.

     “I would do so much with you tonight if I had the energy,” Elrond said sleepily.

     Thranduil stroked his hair and pressed gentle kisses to his forehead and cheek. “I know, but I understand. It’s enough just to be near you, my love.” He chuckled a little as Elrond nuzzled his throat. “Sleep well. We have time for more later.”


	25. Chapter 23

     The sunlight streaming in through the open windows and directly against his eyes woke Thranduil early the next morning, and for a moment he was completely disoriented by his strange surroundings and the pressure of unexpected weight on his chest. But as he woke up more, he remembered the details of where he was and how he had gotten there, and he glanced down at his chest to see Elrond’s brown-haired head resting there. The other elf was sleeping quite peacefully, and Thranduil smiled fondly at him. Slowly, carefully, feeling terrified that he would wake Elrond but unable to overcome his desperate need for even more contact, Thranduil raised one hand and gently stroked Elrond’s hair. He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the soft locks in his fingers and the weight and warmth of Elrond’s body against his. After such a long separation, the contact felt odd, but also more comforting than anything else he could remember, and within minutes he had dozed off again.

     When he awoke the second time, the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes as it had been before, and it was clearly much later in the day. Elrond was still asleep, head still rested on Thranduil’s chest, and he showed no signs at all of waking up any time soon. The blond elf was loath to leave Elrond’s side, but at the same time he knew there was much that needed to be taken care of in Imladris, and with Elrond in need of rest and recovery, Thranduil felt that he was the best one to take charge…and he could hardly do so from a bed, with Elrond half on top of him. With great reluctance he finally rolled Elrond off of him and slipped out of bed, turning back just long enough to kiss his lover’s forehead and make sure the blankets were tucked in neatly around him before retrieving his pack from the corner and disappearing into the bathroom to dress. Satisfied that he looked as clean and authoritative as he was going to that day, Thranduil padded back to the bedroom door and slipped into the hallway –

   -- And came face-to-face with the wide-eyed Lindir, who nearly dropped his carefully-arranged breakfast tray at the sight of Thranduil emerging from Elrond’s room.

     “Y-your grace…” Lindir stammered. “I…ah…I…well…this is for Lord Elrond.” He indicated his tray of food. “But…I…well, had I known you would be um…with him…I…er…would have brought you some…  
     “He is not yet awake anyway,” Thranduil said. He continued to eye Lindir, who shrank back from him a bit, and Thranduil sighed. “Come, Lindir, I’ll eat that while I begin working.” He brushed past the younger elf and went into Elrond’s study, where he found that someone (or perhaps several someones) had already been bringing written reports and leaving them in a neat pile on Elrond’s desk. “I assume these are to be taken care of today?” he asked.

     Lindir scrambled past him and set the tray down, then picked up the papers and began to sort through them. With a task to complete, he seemed much more sure of himself. He nodded a bit and began putting the papers in separate, smaller piles. “Yes. Reports about injuries, supplies, damage to Imladris…a few messages…”

     “Right, let me see the messages first,” he said, and he took the small pile from Lindir as he sat down. He began to go through them, then felt that he was still being watched, and glanced up to find Lindir still standing there. The younger elf’s posture was painfully stiff, he had his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes had once again gone wide and slightly fearful. Thranduil sighed. “Lindir, why are you staring at me that way? Have I done something to make you fear me since last night?”

     “N-no…” Lindir stammered. “It’s just that…well, the way the others talk, the Greenwood elves are…they’re just…well they’re not like the other elves, ‘less wise and more dangerous’ I’ve heard some say, and I just…you’re their _prince_ , so you must be incredibly powerful, and I wonder what the ‘more dangerous’ bit means.”

     Thranduil rubbed his forehead and motioned to one of the empty chairs. “Sit down.” Lindir scrambled to comply, and Thranduil leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he studied Lindir. “How old are you, and how long have you been in Elrond’s service?”

     “Only two hundred,” Lindir replied, “and only since he found me in Eregion.” He looked down at his hands, neatly folded in his lap. “He took me on as an aide but I don’t really know what I’m doing…I’m the son of minstrels, and I was raised and trained as a minstrel, I don’t know a thing about politics or governing or any of the important things he does.”

     “And yet, I cannot believe that even Elrond would keep you around if you were doing poorly,” Thranduil said. “You’re young, Lindir, and you do not yet know all of the ways of the world, but you will, and Elrond can see that. He is patient and kind, wouldn’t you say?” When Lindir nodded, Thranduil went on, “And you must know that he and I are…friends. So what does that tell you about me, if anything?”

     “…That perhaps I fear you for no good reason.”

     Thranduil nodded. “And I hope I never give you one.” Thinking the conversation was settled, he went back to the messages, further sorting them into piles of correspondence he could probably handle and correspondence Elrond should deal with, but Lindir once again failed to move from his spot, and Thranduil once again looked up at him. “…Are you in need of something, Lindir?”

     Lindir took a deep breath as though stealing himself for some great task, then said, “I would like for you to give me orders. Tell me how I can be of use to you.”

     “Hmm.” Thranduil glanced down at the last message in the pile and fought back a sigh, since he didn’t want Lindir to think that his request was the cause of it. The message was from Oropher, and Thranduil feared it would be no good. So he showed it to Lindir and said, “You can find the messenger who brought this, if he is still here, and if not you can find me a messenger who can leave for the Greenwood immediately. I will have more tasks for you when you return.”

     Lindir jumped up and rushed off to his assigned task, and Thranduil opened the note. It was a general note, clearly a copy of one Oropher had probably sent to every person and place he suspected Thranduil might have gone to, and bore no direct address. It sounded quite formal and proper, but Thranduil felt certain that Oropher had been seething with rage when he wrote it. The prince found a quill and some ink in Elrond’s desk, and scribbled a quick note on the end of the letter:

 

_Adar,_

_Your message found me in Imladris, where I am helping them recover from the three-year siege they experienced at the hands of Sauron and his orcs. I shall return when I am able. The people of Imladris send their thanks for the supplies and for the aid of our people._

_Thranduil_

 

   “Writing letters like you’re the lord of this place already, are we?”

     Thranduil looked up and smiled a bit as Gil-galad entered. “Answering my father’s note,” he said. “And doing what I can so that Elrond can sleep more. He needs his rest.”

     Gil-galad settled into the chair Lindir had recently occupied and crossed one leg over the other as he watched Thranduil. “You two must be pleased to be reunited,” he said.

     Thranduil blushed a little as he re-sealed the note and set it aside. “I know I am,” he said. “But Elrond was so exhausted last night we barely had the time for anything.” He picked up one of the papers Lindir had sorted – a report on their supplies of herbs, bandages, poultices, and other healing equipment, as well as notes on how quickly they were using the stores – and said, “What would you have me do to help you today?”

     “Whatever you deem necessary,” the king said. “Many of your people have already joined hunting parties. I had to warn them not to take too many animals or they will just cause more harm than good in the long run.”

     “Good,” Thranduil murmured, and he nodded in agreement both with his peoples’ actions and the king’s words of caution to them. “We need to send out some people for herbs as well, these supplies will not last long. They should gather more ingredients for lembas as well.” Gil-galad pulled a face, and Thranduil sighed. “I know,” he said. “We had to subsist on it for my first winter in the Greenwood. But when other food is scarce, lembas is worth more than gold.”

     “True.” Before Gil-galad could say anything else, Elrond appeared in the doorway, stretching and yawning as he approached them. When he saw Thranduil behind his desk, he smiled broadly and immediately went to the blond elf’s side, bending over to give him a deep kiss. Thranduil’s face was bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears, when Elrond finally went to sit down.

     “Good morning to you too,” Thranduil said, and Elrond laughed. “Did you sleep well?”

     “Best I have in years,” Elrond replied. “But also longer than I have in years as well, it seems. Have I missed much?”

     “I got a message from my father, and the king and I were just about to begin planning for the day. Also someone has been feeding Lindir awful rumors about the Greenwood elves and he spent much of the morning terrified of me.”

   Elrond sighed and rubbed his head. “Well, Lindir is Lindir, he’s a bit impressionable…very young, and his parents sheltered him quite a lot in Eregion. He has never told me for certain but I believe he saw quite a bit of the fighting there first-hand, and it scarred him. But he will grow and mature. I’m more concerned about your father.”

     Thranduil waved his hand. “Do not bother with that. It’s not as though he will come to get me…We have more important issues. Since you are awake now, you can help me decide where to focus our efforts at fixing structural damage.”

     The three elves poured over maps and diagrams of Imladris, marking out places where the reports indicated damage and doing their best to rank each damaged spot according to how important it was to fix it. They paused only when Lindir arrived with the Greenwood messenger, who took the letter for Oropher and left at once, then Thranduil told Elrond to stay in his study while Thranduil took Lindir and Galion on a tour of Imladris. He needed to actually see the damage before he could make any judgments about what to fix when. They returned at sunset, and by then Elrond could report that the various teams sent out to hunt food and gather herbs had begun to make good headway in refilling the food and medicine stores. There were still many injured to care for, and many funerals to hold as well, but with each passing hour the situation grew less and less dire for those in the valley.

     The following morning, Thranduil rose early to oversee the repairs to Imladris. He was surprised when Lindir joined him, but soon learned that this was a good thing – the Elves and Men working on Imladris had learned to see Lindir as a something of a symbol of Elrond’s authority, and as long as he was at Thranduil’s side or was known to be serving Thranduil as well as Elrond, they were more willing to listen to the visitor from the Greenwood. For his part, Lindir still seemed nervous around Thranduil, but the more he got to know the prince and Galion, the less tense he became.

     A few weeks after Thranduil’s arrival in Imladris, the Greenwood messenger returned with another letter from Oropher. Thranduil read it (it didn’t take very long as the letter simply said _You will return immediately, have I made myself clear?_ ) and then tossed it in the nearest fire. The messenger paled and balked. He was expected to return with Thranduil’s reply, and no good would come of telling the Greenwood king what his son had done with his summons.

     “Which is why you will remain here with us, and we will concoct some convincing tale for my father when I finally do return home,” Thranduil said. The messenger was relieved, and almost immediately was given work ferrying messages back and forth between Gil-galad and his young friends within Imladris. Thranduil was content with this, and focused his efforts on helping Elrond return to health and helping Imladris become the gloriously beautiful place he knew it could be. But Elrond was troubled, both by Oropher’s letter and Thranduil’s reaction to it, and as each day passed and Thranduil lingered in the valley, Elrond grew more frightened of what would happen to him when he returned to the Greenwood.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     It had been a few weeks since Thranduil arrived in Imladris, and Elrond was certain he had never felt happier. Though much of Imladris was as yet unfinished or still needed repairs, the current state of things still hinted at its future glory, and in Elrond’s eyes nothing did more to highlight that than Thranduil’s presence. As the blond prince swept through the halls and wandered the open areas, Elrond would watch, and in his mind’s eye he saw Thranduil in all his beauty, gems sparkling on his brow and rich fabric accentuating his every feature, wandering through glorious and peaceful halls like a being from long-lost legend. He felt that Thranduil saw it too, whenever he managed to catch his lover’s starry blue eyes, and saw the way his lips turned up in an almost wistful smile.

     One evening, as the sun began to set, Elrond found Thranduil standing on a rocky ledge, where a floor had already been built and paved over in such a way that the waterfall flowing over the ledge had barely been disrupted, and where the beginnings of a large domed structure already stood. This spot gave a better view of the sunrise, but for now Thranduil was using it to enjoy the fresh air and a lovely sunset, and Elrond stood watching him for several long minutes before daring to disturb him. The warm light of the setting sun had turned Thranduil’s hair into a river of blazing gold down his back, and the gentle breeze played with a few loose strands in ways that made Elrond jealous of the wind. How dare it play with Thranduil’s hair like that? Only Elrond was allowed…He cleared his throat and was rewarded by Thranduil turning rather solemnly to face him, though his face relaxed into a much warmer expression when he realized who was there.

     “This place is amazing, Elrond,” he said. “I hope to see it in its full splendor someday.”

     “You will,” Elrond said, crossing the space between them and reaching out to put an arm around Thranduil’s waist as he drew even with the other elf. “Maybe you’ll even contribute to it someday.”

     Thranduil’s cheeks turned red, and not from the sunset. “I…”

     Elrond turned to face him and gently pressed a finger to his lips. “I know all of your protests,” he said. “But forget about them for now. You are here and I am healthy again…we should enjoy that.”

     Thranduil nodded and kissed his cheek. “But not up here…it’s a bit open, don’t you think?”

     The brown-haired elf simply smirked and pulled away from Thranduil, glancing back over his shoulder just once to make sure he was being followed, and made his way through the winding halls that passed in and out of buildings until they arrived in his room. Once there, he locked the door behind them (some of the healers had developed the bad habit of walking in whenever they liked to check on Elrond) and turned back to Thranduil, fully intending to push the other elf down onto the bed and have his way with him.

     Thranduil had other plans.

     Elrond had barely turned to face the blond elf when he suddenly found himself pushed back against the door, Thranduil’s hands on his face as he assaulted Elrond’s lips in a forceful and desperate kiss. Elrond gasped, and Thranduil took advantage of the moment his lips parted to plunge his tongue into Elrond’s mouth. Elrond’s arms went around his waist, tugging Thranduil as close as physically possible, as his tongue battled the blond elf’s for dominance. He moaned into Thranduil’s mouth, which finally prompted the other to pull away a little, turning his attention to nip and suck at Elrond’s lower lip instead. Elrond groaned, fingers scrabbling at Thranduil’s clothes as he desperately tried to find some way, any way, to remove them. His efforts were rewarded by a deep chuckle, and Thranduil finally stopped lavishing attention on Elrond’s lips long enough to step back and begin unbuttoning his silvery robe. He licked his lips and held Elrond’s gaze with his own, smirking a bit as he noticed how the other elf’s chest heaved.

   “Enjoying yourself already, love?” he asked.

     Elrond nodded and managed a stammered, “Y-yes…”

     Thranduil finally undid the last button and ran his long fingers back up the edges of his robe, slowly pulling the silvery garment open and shrugging out of it. As the material fell and pooled around his feet, he leaned forward and hooked a finger into the waist of Elrond’s leggings. “Show me,” he whispered, and gave a rather firm tug on the tight-fitting fabric. Elrond gulped and scrambled to remove his own robe, tossing it aside while, in front of him, Thranduil backed up a few steps and slowly worked his way out of his own leggings. The moment he was nude, Thranduil backed up to the bed and settled onto the edge, beckoning for Elrond to join him as he leaned back oh so slowly until he was stretched out on the bed, his golden hair fanned out around his head. Elrond shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as though he didn’t quite believe that he wasn’t trapped in a dream. But when he opened them again and Thranduil was still there, Elrond scrambled to the bed and lay down beside him, immediately reaching out to embrace him once more.

     “Mmm, yes,” Thranduil murmured, his voice a throaty purr that sent shivers down Elrond’s spine. “I missed this…” Elrond nodded in agreement against his neck, then tried to roll on top of Thranduil, but the blond elf pushed against his shoulders to shop him. “No, not tonight. Let me do the work for you…”

     “I can do it,” Elrond said, pressing gentle kisses against his neck and throat. “I truly do feel better.”

     “Oh, I have no doubt,” Thranduil replied, nipping at the tip of Elrond’s ear and eliciting another deep moan from him. “But you always do most of the work for us. Let me do it tonight.”

     Elrond raised his head to look at Thranduil, and for a moment considered saying no. He enjoyed the feeling of Thranduil’s body writhing in ecstasy beneath him, had dreamt of it so many times since they had last seen each other. But Thranduil seemed quite serious about his request, and he could clearly see how much his beloved looked forward to this…so finally, Elrond nodded. He kissed Thranduil’s cheek and disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve some oil for him, then quickly returned to the bed.

     Thranduil was sitting up when Elrond returned, and the moment Elrond joined him, he pushed the brown-haired elf down against his pillows, his delicate fingers tracing light paths over Elrond’s chest and stomach as he did. When Elrond was laying comfortably, Thranduil gave his throat a light nip and then trailed kisses along the paths his fingers followed. He circled one of Elrond’s nipples with a fingertip, then carefully pinched the hardening pink nub, eliciting a sharp gasp from Elrond. Thranduil chuckled a little and dipped his head to lick and suck at it, gently worrying it with his teeth until Elrond was absolutely squirming beneath him, hands going into his silvery hair and gripping handfuls of it. Elrond rocks his hips up against Thranduil, and the feeling of Elrond’s hot, hard length brushing against his thigh finally drew Thranduil’s attention away from the almost agonizing attention he was giving Elrond’s nipple. He raised his head and smirked again, then sat back and reached for the bottle of oil.

    He drizzled a bit of the oil on his fingers and set the bottle aside, then shifted so Elrond would have a good view and began to massage his own opening. Elrond just stared and gasped. “That’s…”

     Thranduil chuckled a little, the sound quickly turning to a moan as he pushed his fingers into himself. “Ai, Elrond…” he whispered. “This feels wonderful…Oh, yes…” He worked his fingers in slow, steady thrusts, occasionally scissoring them within himself or even drawing them out entirely to simply massage himself again. Each time he thrust them back in, his movements were faster and more urgent.

     Finally, Elrond reached out to him. “Thranduil,” he moaned, “I can’t take it anymore, I need you, please…”

     “And I certainly cannot deny you,” Thranduil replied. He thrust into himself a few more times and then finally withdrew his hand and reached for the oil bottle. He poured some of the slick liquid into his palm and reached out to stroke it over Elrond’s length, the sudden contact causing the other elf to arch his back and grip at the sheets beneath him.

     “A-ai!” he cried. “Thranduil, I –“ whatever Elrond had planned to say vanished from both his mind and his mouth as Thranduil rose to his knees and crawled the short distance up the bed to him, then straddled his hips. For the first time that night, he looked a bit nervous, hesitating as he reached behind himself to take Elrond’s length in his hand and guide it towards him. Thranduil closed his eyes and bit his lip, then took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself onto Elrond. He winced, then let out a low moan, letting his head fall back as he settled ever lower and took Elrond into himself, inch by painfully slow inch. Elrond’s hands came to rest on his hips, thumbs barely brushing against his sensitive skin, and he murmured encouraging things to the blond elf above him. Thranduil shivered and rested his hands over Elrond’s as he paused, allowing his body to once again become used to the feeling of his lover filling him. Finally, with the greatest of care, he began to move, rocking his hips in small movements that sent jolts of pleasure through him and made him draw in sharp breaths.

     Elrond watched Thranduil moving above him, feeling very much as though the pleasure would drown him. The way Thranduil looked, as though he were lost in a world of his own, with his eyes closed and his long hair swaying gently with his movements…it was almost too much for him to comprehend. As Thranduil became more comfortable and confident, he rolled his hips faster, drawing Elrond ever deeper into a haze of pleasure and joy. And yet, something was missing. He needed more…and when Thranduil finally opened his eyes to search for his beloved’s gaze, Elrond could see that he too wanted something more. He slid one hand behind Thranduil, giving his firm rear a quick squeeze before gliding his hand up Thranduil’s back, using his other hand to push himself up as he went, until finally he was close enough to draw the blond elf in for a deep kiss. Thranduil cupped Elrond’s face in his hands, soft whispers and sighs of pleasure escaping his lips whenever they drew apart even the tiniest bit. Elrond leaned back slowly, drawing Thranduil with him until he was once more settled against his pillows and Thranduil was stretched on top of him. The young prince trailed kisses along Elrond’s jaw and down his neck to his shoulder, then rested his hands on the pillows below Elrond’s head and pushed himself up so that he was hovering over the other, his hair falling over his shoulder and brushing along Elrond’s chest.

     The brush of silky hair on his skin made Elrond smile, and as Thranduil continued to rock against him, he reached up and captured the hair in his hand, stroking it and running his fingers through it and watching all the ways he could make the warm light of his room shine on it. “Ah, Thranduil,” he whispered, “your beauty never ceases to amaze me…” Thranduil’s gaze met his once more, clearly showing the desire and pleasure he felt, and Elrond draped his arms around his beloved prince. “I want nothing but your pleasure, Thranduil,” he said, and as Thranduil tilted his head as though to ask what he meant, Elrond began to thrust up into him in time with the rocking of his hips.

     Thranduil’s mouth dropped open in surprise and a deep, “O-oh,” escaped. “E-elrond…Again,” he pleaded, and the brown-haired elf was more than happy to comply, thrusting into him over and over with smooth, slow strokes. “Ai, Elrond, yes, I…can’t…” He let out a sharp cry as he came, fingers digging into the pillows below his hands and his hips jerking almost wildly as he did. Elrond soon reached his climax as well, though he was much quieter about it, simply murmuring a gentle “Ah, love…” as Thranduil collapsed against him.

     He rolled them onto their sides and carefully pulled out of his partner, which caused Thranduil to moan weakly. Elrond just chuckled a little and stroked his hair, pressing warm kisses to his cheek and forehead as he did. “Would that you could stay with me forever…” he whispered. Thranduil just nodded and clung to him even more tightly, and before long the two had dozed off, feeling safe and warm in each other’s arms.


	26. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best break out the tissues, folks...it's gettin' sad all up in here now!

     Thranduil stayed two more weeks in Imladris, and then felt he couldn’t risk staying any longer. This time it was Elrond’s turn to laden the Greenwood army down with provisions to ensure a safe and comfortable journey, and he spent one last night with his beloved. Thranduil, with Belion, Galion, and the soldiers who had survived the fight (the vast majority, thank the Valar) set off in the early morning. Later that day, Elrond would find Lindir in the library, plucking out a tune on his harp and scribbling down notes and lyrics as he worked, and when Lindir finally declared the song done several weeks later he would learn that the young elf had written an entire song about how beautiful Thranduil looked, wearing his golden armor in the early morning light. Elrond would like the song and would often ask Lindir to play it. But of course, he didn’t know any of that would happen as he watched his beloved Thranduil, dressed in his armor and a deep green cape, sitting astride his borrowed horse and watching his soldiers file past in neat rows before giving Elrond one last warm, lingering look and wheeling around to follow them out.

     The march back to the Greenwood took a bit longer than the original march from there, mostly because Thranduil refused to push his little army when there was (in his opinion anyway) no true urgency in their return. And so it was that, several weeks after leaving Imladris, as the first snows of winter began to fall around them, they finally arrived back in the Greenwood. They were all greeted warmly by the servants, common elves, and other soldiers who came out to meet them. Belion in particular received an enthusiastic welcome from those of his settlement who had remained behind, and by the soldiers who had remained in the Greenwood. But there was one person whose greeting was less than kind, and the moment he appeared his entire attitude cast a pall over the happy gathering going on around and within the depths of his castle.

   Thranduil had barely dismounted his horse and sent the animal off to be cared for (and later returned to Imladris) when Oropher swept into view. He scowled at the elves who were currently vying for Thranduil’s attention, but when his scowl failed to cow them and cause them to step aside, he settled for shouting.

     “ _THRANDUIL_.” Instantly, every elf fell silent, and all eyes turned to the king, standing in the entrance to his castle in a menacing black cloak and clearly seething with rage at the mere sight of the greeting his son was receiving.

     “Hello Adar,” Thranduil replied, voice cold and face carefully kept mask-like. He tugged his leather riding gloves off and handed them to Galion, then unstrapped his sword belt and handed that over as well. “I have returned from my mission to Imladris. The High King and the Lord of Imladris both send their kind regards, and many thanks for our aid.”

     Oropher’s eyes flashed and he quivered in place, hovering over the gathering like an angry storm cloud threatening to unleash sheets of lightening on the gathered crowd, most of whom finally had the sense to scatter. Galion shuddered beside Thanduil, who gently touched his arm and shook his head a bit.

     “ _IN MY STUDY. IMMEDIATELY_ ,” Oropher commanded his son, and without even waiting to see if Thranduil would follow, he stormed off into the castle. Thranduil gave Galion one last look to make sure the other elf understood his orders, then followed Oropher. Though it may just have been a trick brought on by his emotions, Galion thought he could hear doors slamming open and shut all the way through the castle, following Oropher’s path to his study.

     When the father and son finally arrived in Oropher’s study, that door too was slammed shut behind them and Oropher stalked around the room, glaring down at his son every step of the way. Thranduil, for his part, kept his eyes forward and fixed on a spot on the bookshelf behind his father’s desk. Finally, Oropher swooped to his son’s side, his face mere inches from Thranduil’s ear.

     “How _dare_ you,” he hissed. “ _How dare you_ do this to me. To _us_. To _our kingdom_. After all I have done for you, all the ways I have tried to be a good father to you and a good king to these elves, and for what? For you to put together some rag-tag little army of your own and go marching off on an adventure without even asking my permission? _How dare you!_ ”

     “I did what had to be done,” Thranduil replied, raising his chin a bit and fixing his father with the kind of cold, haughty stare he usually reserved for particularly irritating court visitors. “You refused to see the wisdom of helping our allies, and so I took matters into my own hands.”

     Oropher wheeled away and swept to his desk, slamming his fists down on it and snarling at his son. “ _I_ am the one lacking wisdom here? May I remind you that _I am not the one who marched off to war with something that barely deserves to be called an army_!” And then he was back in Thranduil’s face again, this time in front of him. “And just how badly did they perform, hm? Did the glorious Gil-galad have to swoop in and save the day? _How bad does the Greenwood now look to your precious High King and Lord of Imladris?_ ”

     “We look like heroes to them,” Thranduil replied stoically, “because in their hour of need we were there to help them fight the orcs, and because we then helped them to heal and rebuild.” He finally allowed his gaze to meet his father’s. “I told you they were grateful, and I was honest in telling you this.”

     “And why should I believe you? You haven’t been honest with me about anything else,” Oropher spat. For a moment, Thranduil’s blood went cold – did he know about Elrond? – but Oropher didn’t notice. He just continued ranting. “You, who have apparently managed to build up quite the little base of support behind my back! You, who managed to raise an army!”

     “I would imagine that most kings would be pleased that their sons have such strong rapport with the people,” Thranduil said. “After all, it puts me in a good position to lead someday, does it not? We now know that I command much loyalty from our people. On the strength of my name and reputation alone, I was able to raise an army and march to Imladris.”

     “You have undermined my authority completely!”

     “And that is at least as much your fault as it is mine!” Thranduil countered, finally raising his voice. “You could have chosen to go to their aid, to show that you care about more than just what happens in the Greenwood, to show that you know what happens outside of our boarders and that you are able to defend us from _any_ threat, but that is not the choice you made! You could have chosen to be the leader in this! But instead you chose to be a hermit, hiding in his little castle in his little kingdom and ignoring the needs of people who could be valuable allies of ours.” He sighed. “We live so very close to threats, Adar, to Mordor. How can you not see that helping other elves now will be beneficial to us in the future? How can you continue to put you own needs first?”

     For a moment, it looked as though Oropher was about to become violent, and Thranduil braced himself to dodge (or even fight). But the king simply pointed to the door. “Get out,” Oropher snarled. “I am sick of the sight of you. You will remain in your chambers until I summon you again.”

     “Well, it’s lovely to be home, and to see you again too, Adar,” Thranduil said bitterly before turning on his heal and stalking out of the room.

 

***   ***   ***

 

_My love,_

_I have been home for less than an hour and already I long for the sight of you again, for the sound of your voice and the way you smell and the feeling of your strong arms around me. This time it’s about more than just missing you, though. My father was furious with me, and after I tried to convince him that I had done the right thing and he had given me no choice, he declared that he was sick of the sight of me and banished me to my chambers. I just don’t understand. I have to believe that he loves me, somehow, and I still love him…he is my father, after all…but how can any father speak to his own son like that? Would that you could be here with me, and Gil-galad as well. My father’s disdain for both of you grows by the day, but to have you both here would be such a comfort to me. Your presence especially, of course._

_In any event, as promised, I am returning the horse to you. She was a fine companion through the journey back to the Greenwood and I hope you will find her to be in satisfactory health when she returns to you._

_I love you so much, and I’m counting the very hours until I can see you again._

_Love, Thranduil_

 

***   ***   ***

 

_My beloved Thranduil,_

_The horse is fine. You could have kept her, you know, I wouldn’t have been angry._

_Are you sure you must stay in the Greenwood? You snuck out once before, and with an army at your back. Surely on your own you could travel more quickly and stealthily, and make it to Imladris in record time. You would be much welcomed here. The people still speak of you and your soldiers with great affection. Lindir even wrote a song about you – a rather lovely one, at that. You would enjoy it. At the very least here, we could be together and you would be away from your father. I can’t believe he said what he said to you. I simply cannot imagine what would drive a father to say such a thing. Even Maglor, who was very much my captor and had no reason to speak to me or my brother with kindness, would never have said such a thing to either of us. I have passed word of the incident on to Gil-galad, and he is furious on your behalf. It took much for me to convince him that storming the Greenwood would only make matters worse for you._

_Things are going well here, and I think I may be able to visit you soon, if you wish. I’m sure even your father wouldn’t turn down a visit from the Lord of Imladris, coming on official business to pay his respects to the king, or some such thing. But until then, stay strong, and remember always that I love you more than anything in this world. You are my heart’s desire and my soul’s joy. As long as you live in Arda, I have hope._

_All my love,_

_Elrond_

***   ***   ***

 

_My heart and my love,_

_Now more than ever I feel that I must remain in the Greenwood. My father is clearly threatened by the support I have among the people, but so long as I am here I feel that they will be safe and well cared for. My father will not dare do anything to them to risk pushing more away from him and towards me, and I will never allow any harm to come to them. I don’t know if they know or understand the way he truly is, Elrond, but I don’t think they do, for I can’t imagine anyone willingly choosing someone who is clearly so close to the edge of madness as their king. I am the only buffer they now have standing between them and Oropher. As tempting as it is for me to join you in Imladris, it is an offer I should have taken long ago, for it is one I cannot take now._

_I would love to see you, though, if it is a journey you are willing to risk. I have no idea how my father might greet you, and I suspect it will not be good. Though, even if he tries to throw you out early, there is always Belion’s settlement. I’m sure they would allow you to stay, so we could see each other for more than the few days or hours of visiting my father might be willing to grant_

_you. I would ask you to bring Lindir so I can hear his song, but I think that might have to wait. My father would be too much for him, I think, and I don’t want to subject one so young and still impressionable to his behavior._

_Please come soon, love, I need you. More than ever, I need you._

 

_Yours always,_

_Thranduil_

 

***   ***   ***

 

     It was the sound of someone running in the halls that caught Thranduil’s attention first. Nobody ever ran through these halls. It just wasn’t done. So for a brief moment he thought that perhaps the fortress was under attack, or someone was gravely injured, for those were the only two reasons he could believe that anyone would _run_ in Oropher’s castle. But then he looked up and saw Galion tear around the corner and dash straight for him, eyes wild, and a block of ice settled in the pit of his stomach.

   “Galion, what—“

   “He knows,” Galion said, skidding to a halt in front of Thranduil and grabbing the other elf’s forearms. He took a few sharp gasps for breath, then, still rather breathless, continued, “Someone didn’t separate your messages from his, so he found one for you, with Elrond’s seal, and he opened it. I don’t know what Elrond wrote,” he paused for another gulp of air, “but your father is furious, and he knows about you two now. And he’s looking for you.”

     Thranduil just gaped at him, and before he could say anything, Oropher’s voice roared at him from farther down the hall. “ _THRANDUIL!!!_ ” Something crashed in the distance – a servant dropping something, Thranduil hoped, for he hated to think that his father had finally become violent – but Oropher didn’t let that interrupt his rage. “Where are you? Get in here!” Here, of course, meant his study. Thranduil gulped, then turned to Galion. “Go into my room and take my box of letters. It’s under my bed. Please, Galion, I don’t care how you do it, keep them safe. I’m about to lose Elrond entirely, I can’t lose the only things I have left of him too.” He started to make for his father’s study, then stopped and pulled the silver and emerald ring he always wore off of his finger and pressed it into Galion’s hand. “And that. Keep it safe.” Then he turned and steeled himself to face his father’s wrath.

     Oropher was storming around his study when Thranduil finally arrived, and he didn’t even bother closing the door. “ _What is this_?” he practically screamed at his son.

     “Well,” Thranduil said, eyeing the paper Oropher waved at him, “it appears to be a letter.”

     Oropher snorted. “Don’t be cheeky with me,” he snarled. “This is no simple letter. This is a love letter, from _Elrond of Imladris_ of all people, and very explicit too. In it he talks about all the things he plans on doing to you when he arrives here soon…today, perhaps. Dirty, disgusting things. Do not tell me you have already allowed him to violate you with his cock up your ass.” Thranduil’s face turned bright red, and that only seemed to enrage Oropher more. “All these years I give you every luxury, every advantage, so you can attract a good wife, and you _dare_ to take up with this…this…creature!”

     “Elrond is no ‘creature,’ he is a fine ellon and I love him!” Thranduil countered, balling his hands into fists at his side in a vain effort to control his emotions. “You should consider yourself lucky to have him take an interest in your son.”

     “Lucky? _Lucky_? Is that what you call this…this…abomination? You cannot have an heir this way, Thranduil!”

     “Why is that the only important thing to you?” Thranduil demanded. “Why doesn’t my happiness matter more to you? I love him, and we are _happy_ together, and he would do so much for the Greenwood at my side, why don’t those things matter to you at all?”

     “I did not struggle through wars and destruction and the difficulties of founding my own kingdom only to see my line die and all of my hard work be for naught a mere generation later,” Oropher snarled at him. “This,” and here he paused to wave the letter to punctuate his statement, “will _not_ continue. It is a disgrace. You have brought disgrace on me, yourself, on this entire _house_ , and I will _not_ stand for it. He tossed the letter in the fireplace and ignored Thranduil’s pained wail. He watched in absolute silence and coldness as Thranduil crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched his last letter from Elrond burn. As the letter withered and turned to ash, Oropher spoke again, his voice deathly calm and barely audible above the crackling fire. “When he arrives, you will break this sorry excuse of a relationship off, and send him away. He must know that he is _never_ to set foot in the Greenwood again. And when your future wife arrives in a few days, you will greet her and her parents happily and will _never_ breathe a word of this disgusting infatuation of yours to her, or anyone else.”

   “My…my future wife?” Thranduil asked, finally looking up at Oropher and squinting at him through his tears. “What are you talking about?”

     “Yes. I had planned to surprise you with her. Her family visited while you were away. I do not particularly care if you like her or not, she is a suitable match for you, and you _will_ wed her and you _will_ bed her and you _will_ produce an heir with her.”

     Thranduil dragged himself back to his feet and glowered at his father. “When did you become so cold and cruel?” he hissed.

     “When I discovered that my son was no longer deserving of anything else,” Oropher replied. “Had you just done as I asked when you were younger in Lindon, none of _this_ would have happened.”

     Any reply Thranduil would have had was interrupted by the arrival of a guard. “Your grace, you asked to be notified of any activity on our boarders,” she said. “We have received word of a party bearing the standard of Imladris approaching.”

     Thranduil didn’t wait to hear what happened next. He shoved past the guard and dashed out of the room, running full-tilt all the way to the stables. He found a fully saddled and bridled horse there (perhaps it belonged to the guard), and immediately mounted it and rode out to intercept Elrond. He lost track of how long it took him to make it to the edge of the Greenwood, and then he just kept going, and suddenly there was Elrond and his small party. Thranduil didn’t know who the others were, and he didn’t care. He leapt from his horse and dashed towards Elrond, who drew his own horse up short and dismounted, then handed the reins to one of his guards and walked towards Thranduil, arms held wide to hug the other elf.

     “What, you couldn’t wait another hour or so to see me?” he teased, and laughed. But the laughter faded the moment he got a good look at Thranduil’s face, and he wrapped his arms around Thranduil in a protective embrace. “My love, what has happened?” he murmured.

     “He found out,” Thranduil said, voice hoarse as he tried to suppress his tears. “He found your last letter. He…Valar, Elrond, he called me a disgrace and said I brought shame to our house, and he’s forcing me to marry someone else, and he won’t let you come to the Greenwood anymore!”

     Elrond closed his eyes and held Thranduil tightly, struggling to make sense of the sudden turn of events. “Thranduil…”

     Thranduil finally pulled away from him and reached up to grab the horse’s reins. “You have to turn around and go back,” he said. “I don’t know what he’ll do to you if he finds you here. He was so furious Elrond, so furious, and –“

     “He still is.”

     All eyes turned to the speaker. There was Oropher, with a small contingent of guards, staring down at them from atop his great black horse. Thranduil instinctively retreated to Elrond’s side, and Elrond once more put his arms around Thranduil.

     “How can you do this?” Elrond asked. “Have you no compassion for your own son? To treat him so horribly is –“

     “How I handle my family affairs is none of your concern, peredhil,” Oropher declared. “Nor is anything else, for you are henceforth banished from the Greenwood. Now unhand my son before I make my guards force you to do so. And be sure to never come here again, lest you face the full wrath of the King of the Woodland Realm.”

     Elrond and the Greenwood guards exchanged sad looks, and the Lord of Imladris immediately knew that the guards would never actually hurt him, or Thranduil. But they weren’t in any position to defy their king’s orders either, and both Elrond and Thranduil knew it. And Thranduil, of course, had no desire to risk violence between his father’s guards and Elrond’s companions. There was only one thing for him to do, only one way to make sure the encounter didn’t end in a battle, and both he and Elrond knew it. As Thranduil pulled away from him, Elrond turned his gaze back to the other elf, drinking in his features one last time, letting his fingers tangle in the soft silvery-gold hair once more, trying to find some way to let Thranduil know how he felt without saying a word. For his part, Thranduil reached up and brushed his fingers over Elrond’s cheek one last time, then turned his face away and went to re-mount his horse.

     The ride back to the castle was silent, with Oropher in the lead and Thranduil trailing as far behind as he dared. Every so often one of the guards would try to whisper an apology, but Thranduil was having none of it, and he simply waved their words away. He and his father didn’t speak to each other until they arrived back at the stables. As Oropher turned his horse over to the stewards, he said, “Someday, son, you’ll thank me for this.”

     “ _Thank_ you?” Thranduil hissed. The venom in his voice made even Oropher take a step back. “I will never _thank_ you for this. I will never even _forgive_ you for this. And if I fade from grief over this it will serve you right.” And with that he stalked off to his room, not even noticing that Galion had been waiting for him or that the younger elf was following him. He wasn’t even aware of Galion’s presence until they were alone in Thranduil’s room, and Galion went to sit on the edge of the bed beside his distraught friend.

     “Are they safe?” Thranduil whispered.

     Galion nodded. “Belion has them,” he whispered back, “along with all the books I could remember Elrond sending you.” Thranduil closed his eyes and nodded in satisfaction, then sagged against Galion and allowed himself to cry. “Thranduil?” Galion murmured. “Please don’t fade…Elrond is still here, and he still loves you…and I don’t know what I would do without you…”

   “Oh Galion,” Thranduil said through his tears, “I can’t make you any promises…I feel like my heart just got ripped from my chest…how do you live without your heart?”

     Galion just shook his head and wrapped his arm around Thranduil’s shoulder. “I have no idea.”


	27. Chapter 25

     Her name was Dúlinnel, and under any other circumstances, Thranduil thought he might have liked her in some way. He doubted he would have ever been in love with her, but he could easily imagine that they might have had a nice friendship. She was quite pretty, with naturally rosy cheeks, sky-blue eyes, and honey-blonde hair that fell around her shoulders in soft waves. Her smile, when she managed to give one, was small and shy. But her eyes were sharp and betrayed her keen intellect. Thranduil felt that she wasn’t just looking _at_ him and taking in the superficial like so many did, but rather that she was looking _in_ him, somehow managing to see the person he was behind his own pretty face.

     Whether or not she liked what she saw there, he couldn’t tell.

     “…better with swords than he is with a bow, I’m afraid. And more of a reader than a fighter these days. But he _was_ born and bred in Thingol’s court in Doriath, further refined in Gil-galad’s court in Lindon, and has much potential to be a wise king in the future. The people here do love him. They will be loyal to him for a long time to come, I believe.”

     Thranduil suppressed a huff as his father listed off his various qualities, as though trying to convince Dúlinnel’s parents that the pair were a good match. It was a waste of time, and Thranduil was sure Oropher knew it. The wedding was going to happen regardless of what he said about Thranduil, and regardless of what Dúlinnel’s parents said about her. But they had to play the game, didn’t they?

     “We are so honored you have chosen to consider our daughter as a match for your fine son,” Dúlinnel’s father simpered. Her mother simply nodded in agreement, eyes fixed on Thranduil in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. “Now then, our daughter does lack your son’s fine pedigree, but I think you will agree that her musical skills more than make up for the fact that she never saw Doriath…”

     Thranduil tuned out again and sought his future bride’s gaze, wondering if she was just as fed up with the proceedings as he was. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze for a moment, then her eyes darted to her parents before she subtly rolled them and shook her head, just the tiniest bit. Indeed, it seemed that she too had had quite enough of listening to the older elves prattle on, trying to make their offspring sound appealing while also sounding humble. It was absolutely nauseating.

     Finally, Thranduil couldn’t take it any longer, and without any warning he stood and turned to the older elves. “If you would be so kind as to excuse me,” he said, “but I think I would like to show the lady her future home. You _are_ going to be making wedding arrangements as soon as this portion of the conversation ends, correct?”

     “Oh, your grace, but we haven’t even begun to tell you about our daughter’s –“

     “I am quite sure that you would not even be here had you not already agreed to this union, or at least were not prepared to accept one should it be offered to you today,” Thranduil interrupted his future father-in-law, though he made sure that his gaze included all three parents as he spoke. “And I for one would much rather learn of my future wife’s fine qualities from _her_. So, with your permission…?”

     Oropher waved his hand. “Fine, go on then. Make sure you show her the view, and where she will be sleeping until the wedding. We will conclude our business and then you will be expected to join us for dinner.”

   Thranduil bowed, then held out his hand to Dúlinnel. “My lady?” She rose (quite regally, he noticed) and placed her hand in his before also bowing to their parents and allowing Thranduil to escort her from the room. They maintained their chaste contact until they were well away from Oropher’s study, in which the discussion was taking place, and then Dúlinnel pulled her hand away from his.

     “That was insufferable, was it not?” she asked.

     “You should get used to it. My father is often like that these days,” Thranduil replied. “Thought I prefer it to some of his other common moods.”

     She watched him for a moment, then hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. “I am sorry,” she said. “I can see in your eyes that you do not want this any more than I, but…we are bound by our parents’ wishes in this. We shall have to make the best of it.”

     He simply nodded. “Is there another that you love, or is it simply that you do not wish to marry me in particular?”

     “There…is another. My parents do not approve. …And you?”

     “The same,” Thranduil said. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Well, I suppose there is one good thing about this – we can understand each other, at least somewhat.”

 

***   ***   ***

     Their parents concluded the arrangement that evening, and within two months, as the season turned from summer to autumn, the two were married. It was the tiniest and most pathetic noble wedding Thranduil had ever seen or heard of, and had he been in a state of mind to care about feelings of embarrassment, he would have been ashamed to admit it was his own wedding. There were no guests from outside of the Greenwood. Galion had reported to him that Oropher had never sent any invitations, though he did have a stack of announcements on his desk and they were to be sent in the morning. Many people from within the castle were reluctant to attend the wedding. Though they didn’t quite know all of the details of what had happened, they were aware that their prince and king had had a falling out, that Thranduil had seemed very depressed about something starting around the time Dúlinnel arrived, and that neither the bride nor the groom seemed very happy about their wedding. This news had of course spread to their friends and families outside of the castle, and resulted in the guests all being rather subdued and even sorrowful as they watched the wedding. In the years following his wedding, Thranduil would learn that many people had actively chosen not to come, in protest of the way their prince was being treated, while those who came had shown up specifically to show him their support.

     The actual wedding ceremony wasn’t so bad, though Thranduil tuned it out enough that within the month he would barely remember the details. He remembered his father saying some sort of blessing, and sharing a cup of wine with Dúlinnel before they exchanged their golden rings, but that was about it. He would remember that she had been genuinely beautiful that day, dressed in a gown of rich green and silver, with her hair done up in elaborate braids. Had she been cheerful, she would have easily outshone the famous beauties of old. But her own sadness cast a shadow on her face and dulled her beauty. Thranduil was sure he looked no better. Dressed in cream and gold, he was certainly a striking figure, but like his bride he felt great sorrow, and it was difficult to hide.

     The feast was a bright point for him, if only because Oropher had essentially left the menu up to the cooks, and they had chosen to cook all of Thranduil and Dúlinnel’s favorite things. Plus, there was wine, and lots of it, and Thranduil was determined to drink himself into oblivion. He would have succeeded, too, had Galion not intervened and reminded him that he did have to walk out of the feast on his own two feet at some point. Finally, both he and Dúlinnel had their fill of feasting, and took their leave.

    The process of undressing around each other for the first time was terribly awkward. They both turned their backs on one another, but kept glancing over their shoulders to see if the other was done yet and it was safe to turn around, which only made the process worse for both of them because they never really knew when the other might take a poorly-timed peek. Finally, though, they managed to change out of their wedding clothes and into their night clothes, and Dúlinnel sat at the dressing table to let down her braids while Thranduil disappeared into the bathroom to wash up, and then before either of them was truly ready for it they found themselves lying side by side in bed. They both lay stiffly, staring stoically up at the ceiling, maintaining several inches of space between them. Thranduil clutched the blanket to his chest and tried not to remember that the last time someone had been with him in this bed, it had been Elrond. For her part, Dúlinnel just crossed her arms over her chest and sighed.

     “Do you think we really have to…” she asked, her voice cracking a bit. She gulped and tried to continue on. “Do we have to…do…that…thing, that everyone expects of us…tonight?”

     Thranduil just shook his head. “I have no desire for it,” he replied. “So I have no intention of doing it if you do not wish to.”

     “Good.” They fell silent again, and after a long while she finally said, “But we must eventually. They will expect an heir.”

     “They will have to wait,” Thranduil said. “I would not force this on you. And I would not have you force it on me.”

     “I would not even know how to, with an ellon,” she said. When she felt Thranuil’s eyes on her, she continued, “Having never been with one before it is all rather a mystery to me.”

     “Ah.” Thranduil simply nodded, but chose not to elaborate on his own situation. He didn’t know any more about it than she did, after all, having never been with an elleth. He made a mental note to ask Galion for advice, then rolled so his back was to her. “Try to sleep well,” he said, “though I suppose if we show up to breakfast bleary-eyed tomorrow they may assume we have at least tried, and that would please them.”

     “I care not for pleasing them,” she replied. “I hope only that we will be free of their nagging for a time.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “The day’s correspondence,” the aide said as she laid the pile of notes on Gil-galad’s desk.

     “Thank you,” he said, and took the pile to sort through while she stood respectfully to the side, waiting for his instructions. Gil-galad made it as far as the two letters sealed with the green wax of the Greenwood, one bearing the king’s seal and the other simply held shut with a smooth blob of wax, and he frowned. “Messages from the Greenwood…how odd.” Gil-galad couldn’t remember the last time either Oropher or Thranduil had sent him a message, and the mysterious seal-less letter confused him even more. He opened that one first, his eyes becoming stormy with anger as he read it.

 

_Your grace,_

_I hope you can forgive me for writing to you, but I thought you of all people would want to know news of Thranduil and I have no other way to get it to you anymore. Oropher won’t read my letters, so I think this should be safe._

_You knew of Thranduil’s relationship with Elrond, yes? Well, Oropher didn’t for a very long time, but then he found out, and has since banned Elrond from the Greenwood and set about arranging a marriage to some elleth I’ve never heard of before for Thranduil. For his part, Thranduil is utterly dejected and demoralized and I fear for his health. I have begged him not to give in to his grief but he says he can make me no promises. So far he remains alive, but I haven’t seen him outside of his room since Oropher brought him back to the castle (he rode out to see Elrond, who was supposed to be coming for a visit). I can’t even be sure he is eating or sleeping…I bring him food and when I come back for the plates they are empty, but he does have a window that he keeps open all the time, and he seems so tired lately._

_I know there probably isn’t anything you can do to help him. At this point I think anything you or any other outsider could do would just infuriate Oropher, and I don’t think he is rational anymore. But I’m no king or politician so maybe I’m wrong…I know Thranduil cares greatly for you, so if you can think of any way at all to help him, please do it._

_Sincerely,_

_Galion (Thranduil’s aide)_

 

     His first impulse was to order his horse to be made ready for a long journey. Though his relationship with Oropher was rocky, he felt certain that he could talk some sense into the other elf, one king to another. After all, Oropher couldn’t possibly want to risk Thranduil’s life over something like this, right? Perhaps he simply didn’t understand the concept of soul mates. Gil-galad knew that Oropher and his wife had been happy enough together, but their love had never been all that deep, and he remembered that Oropher had seemed far more upset at the potential loss of Thranduil after the War of Wrath than at the actual loss of his wife. But surely, surely, even someone as cool and hard-headed as Oropher could be brought to understand deep love and an unbreakable connection between souls…

     But then he remembered that there was also a letter from Oropher, and he opened that next. It took him mere seconds to read, and in those few seconds his anger turned to uncontrollable rage, and with a great cry he swept everything off his desk. Letters flew off the side and fluttered to the ground. Heavy paperweights sailed a bit farther, and hit the ground and walls with a thud. The decanter and drinking glass full of water he always kept on his desk shattered against the wall, sending shards flying. His aide ducked out of the way and cowered against the wall. Never before had the king displayed such anger, and neither she nor the guards and servants who came running to see what had happened knew what to do.

     “Leave, all of you,” Gil-galad ordered, his voice deathly calm, though his chest still heaved with the aftermath of his rage. “There is nothing any of you can do to help me.”

     They all bowed to him and scrambled away, closing the doors to his great study behind him, and Gil-galad picked through the debris from his desk until he found Oropher’s note once more. He had been hoping it was a proper letter, perhaps Oropher asking advice on how to deal with a suddenly-sullen Thranduil, but no. There had never been such a letter from Oropher, and there never would be.

     As Gil-galad read the wedding announcement once more, he felt that it was the saddest wedding announcement he had ever read. There was nothing more he could do for Thranduil, for to interfere now would only bring the wrath of Oropher down on them all.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Lindir knocked softly on the door of Elrond’s office before padding over to his desk and laying the elegant note on it with great hesitation. He had clearly recognized the seal of the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, as Oropher had taken to calling himself, and though Lindir wasn’t entirely sure what had happened between Elrond, Oropher, and Thranduil on his last trip there, he knew enough to know that Elrond wouldn’t be pleased to see any correspondence from the king. But when Elrond too noticed the seal, his sigh indicated that the note was unwelcome but not unexpected. The Lord of Imladris reached out and took it, staring at it for a good while before turning it over and contemplating the seal.

   “Thank you, Lindir,” he said softly. “That will be all for the night. Please close the doors on your way out.”

     Lindir just nodded and slipped from the room as quietly as he had come, closing the great double doors behind himself with a soft click. Elrond waited to be sure his aide and minstrel had gone, then broke the seal and opened the note.

 

_Announcing the marriage of_

_THRANDUIL OROPHERION, Prince of the Woodland Realm_

_and_

_Lady Dúlinnel Ornoriel of Mithlond_

_and requesting your good wishes for their continued health and happiness._

 

     Elrond dropped the note onto his desk and stared at it, breathing becoming more labored the longer he did. It wasn’t unexpected news – though Oropher had banned Thranduil from writing to Elrond, Galion had managed to sneak a letter to him by disguising it as a letter to Lindir, and so Elrond did realize an arranged marriage was in the works. But he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He had hoped that Thranduil would find some way to keep putting it off and putting it off until Oropher died, faded, sailed, or just gave up and finally let Thranduil do what he wanted. But obviously, that fate wasn’t to be, and as the knowledge that Thranduil was now locked in a loveless marriage sank in, Elrond couldn’t fight his heart any longer. He folded his arms on his desk and lay his head on them, and for the first time he could remember, he cried.

     Thranduil was gone from his life, and there was no more hope for them.


	28. Chapter 26

     As time went on, Thranduil and Dúlinnel settled into a rhythm that they could at least tolerate. Thranduil ordered a larger bed for his room (though he refused to have the old one destroyed and simply had it moved elsewhere). The larger bed made it much easier for the couple to keep up the appearance of living and sleeping together without having to be close while in bed. Unfortunately, Dúlinnel’s wish that their parents would stop nagging for an heir didn’t come true, and eventually they felt backed into a corner and decided to try for an heir. Their first time was scary for both of them, and not the least big happy or comfortable. It left Dúlinnel in tears and Thranduil missing Elrond more than ever. Being with him had seemed so natural and right, just a normal extension of their relationship…almost the complete opposite of what it was like with his poor wife. Finally, they got to a point where they could try once a season without it being too awful for them, and they left it at that.

     But Thranduil often found that he didn’t have much time to worry about such things, for there were dark stirrings beyond the borders of the Greenwood, and before Thranduil knew what was happening, he and the elves of the Greenwood found themselves swept up in a war that wasn’t their own. Thranduil felt a sense of oddly bitter satisfaction as the battle against Sauron came almost to their doorstep late in the Second Age, and suddenly his father was eager to join the battle. Hadn’t Thranduil long warned of just this sort of thing happening? Hadn’t Thranduil wanted to help the elves outside of their boarders, in the hopes of preventing it? But Oropher, of course, would never have listened to anything even hinting at an “I told you so” from his son, and so when Gil-galad showed up to “invite” Oropher to join the battle (even Oropher wasn’t stubborn enough to imagine the invitation was anything less than an order he couldn’t refuse), he mustered his army and marched off to war, Thranduil at his side. Oropher chose to take it as a sign that his son had begun to forgive him. Thranduil, though, had only gone because he still respected and cared for the High King, and because he knew his father would never be able to muster a proper army without Thranduil’s apparent support.

     Which just made the end result of the Last Alliance that much harder for Thranduil to bear.

     The Greenwood elves were to serve under Gil-galad, and for a brief time Thranduil thought things would work in their favor. Gil-galad was a skilled warrior, a far more brilliant tactician than either Thranduil or Oropher, and almost certainly had Elrond on his side. But Oropher had never cared much for serving beneath another, and grew impatient waiting for Gil-galad’s orders. He wanted the glory of a victory for himself. And so it was that, rather than doing the smart thing and waiting for the High King’s orders, he charged forward first, dragging Thranduil and the rest of the army with him.

     It was, of course, a disaster, though Thranduil would have no idea just how bad until the battle was over. After all, it was everything he could do to stay alive himself, and to try to salvage the situation somehow. But there was no salvaging it. He shouted orders, trusting that the soldiers would be loyal to him and follow him, but they either couldn’t hear or couldn’t react, and so Thranduil’s orders were in vain. Those closest to him did their best to obey, but they were outnumbered, and then suddenly there _were_ no others close to him, just orcs and the dead bodies of elves everywhere he looked…

     And then he found Oropher, and though he bitterly blamed his father for getting them into this impossible mess to begin with, he began working his way through the orcs to his father’s side. At the very least, it gave him a goal beyond simply staying alive. But he never made it there, for moments after he decided what to do, he instead wound up watching in horror as four different orcs ran the Woodland Realm’s king through with their horrible swords and spears. As the weapons withdrew, Oropher fell to his knees, then face-down into the blood-filled muck that was now the ground beneath their feet, and didn’t move at all.

     Thranduil didn’t remember too much of the battle after that. He remembered that at some point, several elves dressed in the armor of Gil-galad’s army appeared around him, and he would forever credit them with the fact that he lived until the end of the battle. He remembered turning at one point, just in time to see Sauron fling Gil-galad against a rocky wall, killing the High King just as surely as the orcs had killed his own father. And then, somehow, the battle was over (he had never believed it would end), and he found himself picking his way through the dead, trying to find where his father had fallen. He found Oropher relatively quickly, and the sight of his father’s dead body left him hollow. How was he supposed to react to such a thing? To the death of the one who had raised him and cared for him, but then had turned on him so horribly? Thranduil just didn’t know, and though he rolled Oropher’s body over and took a few items from it, the hollowness didn’t fade.

     All around him, what was left of the Greenwood army wandered aimlessly, individual soldiers occasionally kneeling by the body of a fallen comrade, and the air around them was rent with the high keening of elves mourning their dead. It made Thranduil’s blood run cold, and he felt his stomach heave as the horror of what had happened to them finally began to sink in. He struggled back to his feet and staggered towards the edge of the field, where he could see the few remaining officers gathering, but he didn’t make it far before doubling over and retching. He felt dizzy and sick, and swayed dangerously on his feet. One of the officers must have noticed, because the next thing Thranduil remembered was strong hands under his arms, hauling him back to his feet and pulling his arms over armored shoulders while a voice he didn’t recognized asked if he was injured. He just shook his head. The voice asked about the king – where was he, what had happened to him – and Thranduil finally raised his head to look at the speaker. He didn’t recognize the face, either, but as his eyes met the officer’s, he saw the other elf go pale. Thranduil just shook his head again, and the officer nodded his understanding. There were apologies and words meant to comfort Thranduil, but he ignored them all as the soldiers supporting him helped him off the field. They were well-meant, but words provided little comfort now…they wouldn’t bring back the dead, after all.

     They stayed beside the battlefield until early the next morning, and on Thranduil’s orders his officers went out that night and collected the names of every fallen Greenwood elf, along with such trinkets and personal effects as could be easily carried. Someone found a horse for Thranduil, and after a silent breakfast of lembas and water, Thranduil led what remained of his army from the battlefield, marching them home to the Greenwood with only the sound of their steps and the occasional sung lament to accompany them.    

     The march took a long time – the Greenwood wasn’t that far from Mordor, but Thranduil refused to push his remaining soldiers (or himself) beyond their endurance, and called for frequent stops for food and rest. But finally, they made it safely back, and Thranduil led them all the way back to his father’s old castle, where they were greeted by a crowd of those who had been left behind. Dúlinnel and Galion were at the head of the crowd, and as Thranduil drew closer he could see the look on Galion’s face shift from fear to relief to horror as he realized just how few had returned…and that Oropher wasn’t with them. The younger elf stepped forward to hold Thranduil’s horse as he dismounted.

     “Thranduil?” he murmured, trying to keep his voice low enough that those around wouldn’t hear. But Thranduil just shook his head and made for the entrance to the castle, stopping only to speak to his wife.

     “You are a Queen now,” he said. Dúlinnel stared back at him, light-blue eyes wide, and then she nodded slowly.

     “I understand,” she said. “Is there anything I should –“ But Thranduil swept off into the castle before she could even finish her sentence. The new queen turned to look at Galion and the soldiers, her helplessness and confusion clear on her face, then she too returned to the castle.

 

***   ***   ***

    

     While Thranduil was being pushed into an arranged marriage and becoming accustomed to married life, Elrond occupied himself with perfecting Imladris. It had become known as the Last Homely House and he intended for the place to be as beautiful and welcoming as he could make it. His efforts were very much appreciated, not only by the residence of Imladris, but by those who came to visit as well. His most frequent visitors were the members of the White Council, who had decided to use Imladris as their meeting place, and Elrond was pleased with that. It helped keep his mind off of other things.

     Among the members of the council was the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, who sometimes brought her husband Celeborn or her daughter Celebrían with her when she came to the Council. Elrond found that he liked Celebrían’s company. She was attractive, very similar in appearance and bearing to her mother (though with her father’s more silvery hair), and tended to be quite cheerful. Somehow, it seemed that she always knew how to make him laugh. He found himself looking forward to her visits, if only because they broke up the monotony of daily life in Imladris.

     The announcement of Thranduil’s marriage came to him a few months before another visit from Celebrían and her mother. Though he was quite sure neither elf knew the details of what had happened in the past months, Celebrían immediately sensed that he was upset about something, and remained by his side, trying to cheer him up, until it was time for the Council meeting and she had to let him go to the meeting on his own. Almost the entire time, Galadriel’s keen eyes were on them, and when the meeting finished, she approached Elrond to speak in private.

     “My daughter has grown fond of you,” she said. “She speaks of you often.”

     “I…am pleased to have her friendship,” Elrond said. Galadriel just tilted her head a bit. “But I think she deserves more than I can give her.”

     “You cannot give her your love?” Galadriel asked.

     “Something tells me you already know the answer to that.”

     Galadriel glided closer and reached out to tuck one finger under his chin. Elrond let her eyes meet his, though he did try to keep his thoughts quiet so she couldn’t read anything he didn’t want her to. Finally, she let his chin go, and said, “My daughter would be your wife, if you would agree.”

     Elrond sighed. “She could do much better than me.”

     “Celebrían disagrees.”

     “Celebrían needs to leave Lorien and meet more ellyn then,” he said. “My lady…I do not say these things out of a lack of care for your daughter. Quite the opposite. She deserves happiness, and I…I enjoy her friendship. But it can never be anything more.”

     “Shall I tell my daughter that you reject her offer, then?” Galadriel asked.

   Elrond opened his mouth, fully intent on saying yes…but then, what reason did he have to say so? What was stopping him from trying not to have happy life with Celebrían? Thranduil was no longer his, no matter how badly they may have wanted to be together…he _did_ enjoy Celebrían’s company…perhaps he could grow to love her, and if not, at least there would be friendship between them…perhaps they would even have children…he had never allowed himself to dream of such a thing with Thranduil, since it would be nearly impossible to have children if they were together, but with Celebrían there would be no barrier. He could have a family, be a father…wasn’t that something to look forward to?

     Finally, he looked to Galadriel once more. “Tell her the truth,” he said. “Tell her that I cannot promise to ever be more than a friend, even if we do wed. And then let her decide.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The aftermath of the Battle of the Last Alliance was terribly confusing for Elrond, who suddenly found himself at the head of Gil-galad’s forces and feeling more than a little responsible for Isildur’s failure to destroy the One Ring. It was several weeks before he returned to Imladris, and even then he was still getting new reports on an almost-daily basis from those he had assigned to scout the battlefield and the rest of the area around Mordor and bring him information. For the most part, he was satisfied by what he learned – no sign of Sauron, Mordor seemed quiet, only the remaining orcs were causing trouble and they were surprisingly easy to dispatch. But then the darker reports trickled in. Gil-galad’s body was nowhere to be seen. One entire section of the field was covered in the bodies of elves from the Greenwood. No sign of Thranduil or Oropher at all…and then, Oropher’s body was found. Still no sign of Thranduil, though, and for a few weeks after learning of Oropher’s death, Elrond was worried sick and desperate for any news of Thranduil. He didn’t even put any effort into his own upcoming wedding, instead leaving the arrangement to Celebrían, who had decided that she had enough love for the both of them and wanted to marry him. And then, finally, some elves moving west stopped for rest at Imladris, and one of them mentioned that Thranduil was back in the Greenwood and had taken his father’s throne. Elrond nearly cried with relief at the news, though his heart ached for Thranduil. How much was he suffering now, having been thrust into the role of king and having lost so many of his own people in battle? That night, long after everyone else had gone to rest or sleep, Elrond stayed up in his study, writing a letter. Though the letter was short, he wanted to choose his words carefully and that task took hours. He finished just as the sun was rising, and sent it off with a messenger immediately after breakfast.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Thranduil?” Galion said from the doorway, his voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s a letter for you.”

     Thranduil looked up from where he was busy packing away the last of the library books. He had decided that staying in his father’s old fortress was unwise, and had taken it upon himself to begin packing as much as possible. Galion’s interruption was unexpected, and the mention of a letter was nerve-wracking for him. “A letter?”

     “From Elrond, I think.” Galion nearly regretted admitting that, for the books in Thranduil’s arms wound up in a messy, page-bending heap on the floor, and Thranduil just about tackled Galion in his haste to take the letter. While he sat down to read it, Galion began straightening the dropped books and putting them in the chest Thranduil had for them.

 

_My dear Thranduil,_

_I confess I have no idea how to address you any longer. I suppose it would be inappropriate to call you ‘my love,’ even if I desperately want to._

_It took a long time, but I finally received word of your father’s fate, and your new position. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling right now. But you should know there is no reason for you to bear this burden alone. I want you to know that you can always call on me for help. And if for some reason you cannot come to me, Celeborn and Galadriel in Lothlorien would surely come to your aid however they were able._

_I hope you at least have someone to talk to in the Greenwood. Is Galion still with you? I received no word of him, and assume he didn’t go to battle, but then I don’t think any of my people would have known who he was. I hope he is still with you._

_Take care of yourself, please. Should anything happen to you, I don’t think I could bear it. I miss you terribly._

_Yours,_

_Elrond_

 

     Thranduil sighed, then folded the letter again and put it away before going back to his books. Galion just watched him for a moment, then said, “Aren’t you going to answer him?”

     “No,” Thranduil said. He took a few deep breaths to help keep his composure, then said, “I…have a wife now. There is nothing else to do, and I refuse to hurt either Elrond or myself by pretending there might be a chance, someday, of something more. There isn’t. He asked after you though. You could write if you wanted.”

     Galion just sighed and helped finish packing the books. He wouldn’t torment Elrond by writing and getting his hopes up, either, and he wouldn’t torment Thranduil by carrying on a correspondence with his beloved when Thranduil himself thought he could not. Elrond would receive no reply to his letter.


	29. Chapter 27

     Over the next several years, Thranduil abandoned his father’s old fortress, preferring instead to build his own farther north in the forest and to move his people closer to it. The vast majority followed him happily, and once they had moved far enough to have a river and much of the forest between themselves and Mordor, Thranduil felt much safer. It made absolutely nothing else in his life easier, but then, he supposed he should be grateful for even one easy thing.

     As time went on, he received word of Elrond’s marriage (he locked himself in his study for days when he learned of it) and the birth of Elrond’s first children (he cried, but deep in his heart he did feel happy for Elrond). But beyond those announcements and the general correspondence required of them as a King and a Lord, they never wrote to one another again. On Thranduil’s side, Galion handled most of the correspondence, reporting the contents of notes to Thranduil and writing replies according to his orders. In Imladris, a similar task fell first to Lindir, then to Erestor, and finally to Glorfindel when he came to live there. And as the years went by and Thranduil shut himself away more and more in his halls, the chances of them ever seeing each other again dwindled as well. Thranduil focused his attention on caring for the Greenwood, and on trying to slow the growth of the darkness and shadows that rose up there some time after they abandoned his father’s old fortress.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Thranduil.”

     He glanced up from his papers, just long enough to confirm that it was indeed his wife who had spoken. “Dúlinnel.” His eyes immediately went back to the papers on his desk.

     “It seems that our…exertions worked this time,” she said.

     Thranduil’s brow furrowed and he looked up at her again, finally giving her his full attention. “Our ‘exertions’?”

     “Yes.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I am with child.”

     “Are you certain?”

     “I am.”

     “Hmm.” Thranduil twirled his quill in his fingers, then nodded and looked back at his paperwork. “Well, congratulations. Do let me know if you need anything to make you more comfortable.”

     Dúlinnel simply nodded and left. Galion was just coming to see Thranduil, and she brushed past him with barely even a look of acknowledgement. Galion frowned at her back, then waited until she was no longer in sight before turning to Thranduil. “Is she angry at me for some reason?”

    “Not that I know of,” Thranduil replied. He looked up at Galion. “She told me she’s pregnant.”

     “Really?” Galion asked. When Thranduil nodded, he added, “You don’t seem very happy. I thought news like that would please you.”

     “Nothing much pleases me these days, Galion, you know that.”

     Galion went to stand at his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be a father in a year, Thranduil. You can’t stay like this…you’ll hurt your little elfling if you do.”

     Thranduil just went back to his work, and Galion sighed and shook his head. “Well, anyway, the new shipment of wine came in from the mortal town. We should have plenty for the upcoming feasts.” _If you don’t drink all of it first._

     “Good. Continue on with preparations, then. And make sure the guards know to clear the spiders away from the feasting area.”

     “Of course,” Galion said. When it became obvious that Thranduil had nothing else to say to him, he left to do as he had been told, shaking his head the whole way. Thranduil had long been living in a haze of darkness and discontent…and Galion had no idea how to help him.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Though he would never admit it, Galion’s words ate away at Thranduil. One of his worst nightmares was being a bad father to his child. He dreaded turning out like Oropher, or worse. And if Galion thought that existing in his current dark state would be harmful to a child…well, Galion had long been a voice of reason in his life. Maybe it was good for him to assume that the aide-turned-royal butler knew what he was talking about. Of course, the child wasn’t born yet, and Thranduil knew nothing about it other than the fact that it apparently existed. How could he be a good father to someone he couldn’t even see or touch yet?

     Perhaps it was time to work a little harder on being a good husband.     

     In the few days since Dúlinnel had announced her pregnancy to him, Thranduil had barely seen her and had made no effort to seek her out or otherwise care for her. That would have to change, he thought. Slowly, of course. Though he didn’t dislike his wife, he knew there was no way he could force romantic love between them, and he didn’t want to. Long years of marriage had already proven that it would be impossible. But he did have to take care of her. It would be so very awkward…

     Finally, he decided to try simply writing to her. Though a part of him didn’t wish to write to anyone but Elrond, he also realized that trying to speak with her might go badly. He had difficult things to put into words, and at least this way he would have a chance to edit or start over again if he needed to. So he pushed his work off of his desk, found some fresh parchment and a comfortable quill, and began to write. Finding the right words and right tone took him many hours and more sheets of parchment than he cared to think of, but finally, he finished, and set his quill down to give his letter one last look.

 

_Dúlinnel,_

_I think I may have upset you by failing to be joyful at your announcement a few days ago. I apologize. You know things have been…difficult for me for the duration of our marriage and particularly since that disastrous battle and my return to the Greenwood as an orphaned king, but that is no excuse. You did not cause my problems. I should have never taken them out on you._

_The truth is, I am frightened. I am fearful of becoming like my own father. I am fearful of being unable to care for our child. Long has it been since I was around elflings, and never have any been entrusted to my care for more than a few minutes or hours at a time. I know nothing of being a parent, and yet, within months, I will be expected to know…as will you._

_I cannot promise you now that I will be a good father. I can only promise to do my best. And I can only promise to do my best to be a good husband to you. Dúlinnel, you have always deserved better that what you received in life. You deserve better than me. But for the time being we have no choice but to remain together, and I intend to work hard to become more like that which you deserve over these next several months._

_I know this will most likely mean little to you now, that my actions are what will make an honest elf or a liar of me. For now, I only ask that you believe that my intentions are sincere. I also ask that you tell me when you need something of me. I have no idea what one in your condition requires or wants, and no idea what you specifically wish for, so please help me by telling me._

_Thranduil_

 

He sent Galion to find him some white flowers – knew enough about his wife to know that she liked such things – and when he finally had them, he stuck the majority of them in a vase on his desk and took the rest to the bedroom with his folded letter. He laid them both on his wife’s pillow, then returned to his study to finish his work for the night. Dúlinnel continued to avoid him, and (as he often did these days) he ate dinner by himself as he worked. But finally, even he could not continue working into the night, and he snuffed out his candles before going back to the bedroom.

     He had planned on going straight to bed, but his plan was interrupted by Dúlinnel, sitting on the edge of her side of the bed and sniffling. Every so often she reached up to rub her eyes or wipe her nose. His brow furrowed and he leaned over a little to try to get a look at her face. “Dúlinnel? Whatever is the matter?”

     She looked up at him, and for the first time he noticed that she was clutching his letter and the flowers in one hand. “Do you mean this?” she asked. “Do you truly mean this?”

     Thranduil crossed the distance between them and knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hands in his own. “I do,” he said. “I mean to try, at any rate.”

     “But…” she sniffled and pulled one hand free to wipe at her nose again, “but Thranduil…you must know I do not love you, and most likely never will.”

     “I do know, and I feel the same way,” he said. “But I do not _dislike_ you either. Perhaps we can never be in love. But perhaps we can at least be friends, and be a bit kinder to one another. Don’t you think so?”

     She pondered his words for a moment, then nodded. “Are you…happy? About the baby, I mean.”

     He managed a faint smile and nodded to her. “I am.”

     Dúlinnel nodded once more, then set the letter and flowers down on her bedside table and swung her legs up onto the bed. She pulled her share of the blankets up over her and settled comfortably against her pillows. Thranduil watched for a moment, then stood and went to change into his night clothes before climbing into his half of the bed. For a long while, neither of them moved or spoke, but then Dúlinnel reached out and sought his hand with her own, tentatively hooking her pinky through his. Thranduil didn’t pull away from the touch, nor did he try to take more of her hand in his. He simply lay there, listening to her breathe and feeling her finger against his, until he couldn’t stay awake anymore and he drifted off into sleep.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     As the months went by, Thranduil did his best to live up to his promise, and he found himself hoping that his efforts and the birth of their child would change things and bring them closer. Within a few weeks he had fallen into a routine – wait for Dúlinnel to wake up, have breakfast with her in their chambers, then go to his study and take care of any work that arrived in time for him to deal with it before lunch. Galion helped by skimming through the various letters and notices as they arrived to make sure the truly urgent things were dealt with first. Lunch was with Dúlinnel if she felt like it, otherwise he ate alone, with Galion, or with any visitors in the realm (not that there were many of them). The afternoon was dedicated to court or to joining the guards on some mission to clear spiders. He almost always had dinner alone, since he did feel the need for some time alone in the day and Dúlinnel felt that the least she could do to reward his efforts was to give him that time each day. A bath might follow, and then they went to bed. At first, they tried to increase their physical contact, usually by holding hands, but soon they gave up on that.

     Every so often, Galion would prod Thranduil into some other action or gesture, like presenting Dúlinnel with a bouquet of her favorite flowers or taking the time to rub her ever-expanding belly. Thranduil would sometimes even come up with something new himself, like the time he brought her outside for a picnic lunch (which he thought was quite sweet) or the time during the winter when he got Galion to help him build up a fire in the bedroom’s fireplace and then read poetry to her for as long as she wanted. But while it was clear that she generally approved of his efforts, their relationship still seemed far too distant and cold to him, and before long he had run out of fresh ideas. It didn’t help that Dúlinnel herself never asked him for anything specific, and didn’t seem interested in putting much effort into her side of the relationship either. At first Thranduil was willing to just chalk it up to her being tired from the pregnancy, but as time went on, he wasn’t so sure, and soon his own efforts began to wane too.

     “You tried,” Galion told him one night, as they sat together in his study, finishing a bottle of wine. The cold winter had long since given way to spring, and Thranduil could feel the stirrings of summer all around him already. Dúlinnel had been confined to her bed for the past few weeks on the healers’ orders. She was quite grouchy these days, and tonight had ordered Thranduil to leave her be. Hence, wine in his study with Galion.

     “I failed though, didn’t I?” the king asked. He stared down into his empty wine glass and reached out for the bottle. The wine was already making him tipsy, and as he poured, some of the liquid sloshed out of his glass and onto his sleeve. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, though.

     Galion shrugged. “Look, can I be really blunt with you?”

     “Are you ever anything but?” Thranduil asked. They both laughed, and Galion clinked his glass against Thranduil’s.

   “Point taken,” he said. “But listen…you must know as well as I did that this wasn’t going to go well unless she put in some effort too, and I have to say…I supported you when this began, and I still do. What you tried to do is admirable, my friend. If your only goal was to be nicer to your wife, I think you succeeded. But if you wanted anything else to come out of this? Well, then, she needed to put in a bit more effort too.” Galion finished off his glass and poured himself some more wine, then leaned over to pour the last bit in the bottle into Thranduil’s glass. “She threw you out of your own bedroom tonight, after all, and that’s _after_ all these months of your hard work.”

     Thranduil sighed and nodded. He took a large gulp of wine, large enough that some of it dripped down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I’m not going to become my father, am I?” he asked softly.

     “I don’t know,” Galion said. “But the fact that you’re worried about it gives me hope.” Thranduil just looked confused, so he added, “It tells me you’re thinking about it, you’re more likely to be aware of being like him…I think that will help, anyway. But what do I know about these things? I was raised by, well, you and a bunch of nurses.”

     Thranduil laughed a little and shook his head. “Whose brilliant idea was it to entrust a baby elfling to me and my nurses and maids?”

     “Your father’s, I think,” Galion said. “Not that I was there, mind…”

     Thranduil just shook his head and finished off his wine. “Well, in any event, I think it’s time for bed. Maybe she’s asleep by now and I can sneak back in.”

     “If not, you can take my room,” Galion said. “I’ll find somewhere else.”

     “How would that look, for the king to sleep in his butler’s bed?”

     “Better than for the king to sleep on the floor of his study,” Galion pointed out.

     Thranduil couldn’t argue with that, so he simply set his glass down and staggered to his feet, swaying a bit as he tried to get his balance, then simply waved to Galion and wandered off to bed. Much to his pleasure, Dúlinnel was indeed asleep, and she didn’t even stir as he stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed.

     Which just made the way he was woken up the next morning all the more stressful.

     It was the pillow to the face that finally dragged him back to wakefulness, and he raised his head to look at his wife, muttering a bleary, “Huh?” in the process.

     Dúlinnel didn’t bother to answer. She was too busy clutching at her stomach and moaning to say much to him. Thranduil just stared at her for a moment, then realized what must be happening. She was in labor. His – no, their – child was on its way. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a thin dressing gown on his way to the door, barely having a chance to even tie it shut around his waist before he flung the door open and shouted for Galion. The butler seemed much more alert than Thranduil felt when he appeared moments later

     “Get the healers!” Thranduil ordered. “The Queen is in labor.”

     Galion dashed off, and Thranduil returned to the bed, kneeling down at Dúlinnel’s side and taking her hand gently in both of his. He was rewarded by her shaking his hand away and waving at him to leave. “Get out of here,” she snarled between contractions. “No husband should see this.”

     “But…but our child…”

     “You need to go!” she replied.

     “But—“

     “ _OUT!_ ” she roared, flinging her hand out to point to the door and barely missing his face in the process. Thranduil felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away, and as the healers finally arrived he allowed the hand to guide him out of the room. One of the healers gave him an apologetic look as she closed the door behind him, and Thranduil found himself trapped in the hallway, wearing nothing but his dressing gown and night clothes, with Galion at his side.

     “Don’t worry,” Galion said. “Plenty of wives don’t want their husbands there for something like this.”

     But Thranduil doubted his words. “…I will need a distraction,” he said. “A very strong one. One that isn’t wine.”

     Galion nodded. “Come then. Let’s find ourselves a good distraction.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     There was quite a bit he couldn’t believe about the day he became a father. How long it took, for one thing. How much it seemed to hurt Dúlinnel, for another (half of the time he could hear her even in his study). But it was the moment one of the healers finally tucked the tiny bundle into his arms that caught him the most off-guard. Tiny, to his mind, didn’t even begin to describe it. He felt utterly giant in comparison to his newborn son, and could barely comprehend how the small, wrinkly little child actually fit so snuggly in his arms.

     And he certainly couldn’t understand how a single blink of those bright blue eyes was enough to make him grin so brightly that his entire face lit up, for the first time in…well. Decades, really.

     “He’s so small,” Thranduil breathed. The healer just chuckled a little and gave his arm a quick pat, but Dúlinnel huffed a little.

     “Have you never seen a newborn before?” she asked groggily.

     Thranduil glanced at her, then shook his head. “Not one so very new, at least,” he said. “Goodness, look at him, he’s so perfect…” Without even really knowing why he was doing it, Thranduil counted the elfling’s little fingers and toes, then brushed a fingertip over his cheek and gently raised him a bit so he could kiss his son’s forehead. “Sweet little one,” he whispered. Dúlinnel made an impatient noise, and Thranduil finally turned to hand the baby off to her. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but to Thranduil’s disappointment, there was no spark there. Despite his hopes, the birth of their child had changed nothing between them. But he wasn’t going to let that mar his joy.

     “Have you any ideas for a name for him?” he asked her.

     She just shook her head as she began to feed the baby. “I thought that sort of thing was the father’s job anyway,” she said.

     Thranduil nodded. “It is, I know,” he said, “but I thought it would be nice for his mother to have some input…does this mean you had no dreams about him? No insights?”

     “None,” she confirmed.

     He sighed a little. “Well, then. I promise to think of something good.”


	30. Interlude: Lords and Ladies of Imladris

     Lindir looked up at the sound of the twins barreling past, laughing and shrieking the whole way. Well, that couldn’t possibly be good. Elladan and Elrohir were good boys, for the most part, but they were also incredibly rambunctious and were always getting into trouble. He could still remember when they had been born – almost a month early, but both healthy (and with the lungs to prove it). And they had been causing chaos in Imladris ever since.

     He poked his head out into the hallway just in time to catch sight of the twins and of their current prize, and let out a piercing shriek of his own before taking off after them. Elladan was clutching a harp in his hands as he ran. And not just any harp, but the beautiful maple-wood harp Lindir had brought with him from Eregion, the one with mother-of-pearl inlays and elegant carved designs…the one his father had made just for him…the only thing he had left of his family.

   “Elladan! Elrohir!” he shouted. “You put that harp down right now!” But the twins ignored him and laughed as they ran. Valar, how could they be so fast as to outrun a fully-grown elf? They raced around a corner and Lindir skidded around it right behind them, but still too far to reach them. “If you break that so help me Eru I’ll –“

     Lindir didn’t get to finish, for at that exact moment, the twin carrying the harp tripped and fell and the beautiful wooden instrument went flying over the railing. “ _No_!” Lindir shouted, and he flung himself at the railing, even though he fully knew there was no saving his harp. He hit the railing so had that he himself nearly flipped over it, but he didn’t care, for he was too busy waiting for the horrible sound of his harp shattering on the stone-covered ground one floor below them. But much to his surprise, that sound never came. Instead, he heard a surprised, “Oof!” and when he finally had the courage to look, he saw that Glorfindel had been in just the right place to catch the harp. Both he and Lord Elrond were looking up at Lindir now, confusion etched on their faces.

     To his left, the twins scrambled to the railing to look down. Their movement caught Elrond’s attention, and his confused expression turned to one of anger instead. “What did you do?” he asked them with the long-suffering voice of a father who had asked that question one too many times in his children’s short lives.

     “W-we just wanted to p-play with Lindir’s h-harp…” Elrohir stammered.

     “So we got it from his room,” Elladan added. “And we were gonna play it in the library…”

     By now, Lindir had squeezed his eyes shut and was gripping the balcony railing hard enough to make his knuckles white. This day just couldn’t get any worse. As much as he loved the twins (and he truly did, as though they were his own little nephews), he was certain that his room was now a disaster area. They had invaded his privacy and nearly destroyed his most prized possession…

     He opened his eyes again just in time to see Elrond, who had since ascended the stairs, crouching down in front of his children. Glorfindel had followed, but he kept back from the gathering, cradling Lindir’s harp like a baby in his arms. “I’m disappointed in both of you,” Elrond said, and the twins bowed their heads and shuffled their feet in sadness. “I suppose you didn’t even ask permission before going into Lindir’s room.” The boys shook their heads. “You know you aren’t supposed to go into other peoples’ rooms without their permission. And then you took something of his! And almost broke it!”

     “It’s just a harp,” Elladan grumbled.

     “It’s just Lindir,” Elrohir added.

     Lindir took a step back and braced himself against the railing at that. _It’s just Lindir_. How many times had he heard that as a child, and even a young adult, spoken by those who thought him weak because music was his only talent? Even after all these years, the words still hurt. He took a deep breath and tried to push the sting away. After all, he was grown, and Elrohir was just a child…

     But Elrond had noticed Lindir’s reaction, and now he scowled at his children. “That harp is a precious thing to him, because it’s the only thing he has left from his parents. How would you feel if I gave you something, and years from now, when it’s all you have left of me, someone took it and broke it?” The twins just blinked at him, and he added, “And Lindir is not ‘just Lindir.’ What a cruel thing for you to say about him, Elrohir. Lindir is a dear friend and he loves you both very much. How could you just brush him aside like that?” The elflings looked down at their feet and Elrond sighed, finally standing up and nudging both of them back towards the hallway. “Go tell your mother what you’ve done. I will join you soon.” He watched the boys trudge off, then turned and rested his hand on Lindir’s shoulder.

     Lindir took a deep breath and forced a smile. “They’re just children,” he said. “They do not understand these things yet.”

     “They should,” Elrond said. “And I would have them learn these lessons, but not at your expense.”

   Lindir simply nodded and took his harp from Glorfindel. “If you’ll both excuse me, I should…put my harp away and see to the state of my room.” He left before either elf could say anything to him.

     Later that night, he sat alone in his room, tuning his harp in the dim light of the moon and the few candles he had scattered around. Miraculously enough, the twins hadn’t destroyed his room, which meant that instead of trying to put his things back, he had the time for some music before bed. But while his harp hadn’t been destroyed in the afternoon’s debacle, its fall into Glorfindel’s arms had done nothing for its tuning. Lindir sighed as he finally got the last string back to where it should be, and gently drew his fingers along the strings, listening to the soft cascade of notes as he did. He sat up straight and settled his harp in the proper playing position on his lap, and was just about to begin a tune when a soft knock on the door interrupted him.

     He raised his eyes, fully expecting to see Elrond there – Lindir usually left his door ajar until he was sure his lord was in bed, just in case Elrond suddenly decided he had something to ask of the younger elf – but discovered that Lord Elrond wasn’t there. Rather, he had to drop his gaze lower, and there in the doorway he finally found Elladan and Elrohir, huddled together and staring at Lindir with dark, sad eyes. He frowned at them a little and tilted his head, carefully setting his harp aside. “What are you two doing here?” he asked. “You should already be in bed.”

     They stepped into the room more, and Elladan said, “We wanted to say we’re sorry.”

     “We didn’t want to break your harp,” Elrohir said.

     “We just wanted to play it, ‘cause it’s pretty,” Elladan said.”

     “And…and I didn’t mean anything by ‘just Lindir’,” Elrohir added.

     “We love you too,” Elladan said.

     Lindir blinked at them, and rather suddenly he found himself fighting back tears. How could he stay mad at his little elfings? “Oh…come here, both of you.” He held out his arms to them, and before long he was hugging both of them tightly. They were far too big to sit together in his lap anymore, not that that stopped them from trying now, and before long their struggles had the three elves dissolving into laughter.

     “We really are sorry, Lindir,” Elrohir said.

     “I know you are,” Lindir told him. “And…I forgive you. Now go on, you need sleep. …I can show you how to play my harp tomorrow.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Elrond grumbled a little as he dug through his collection of jewelry, hunting for an appropriate brooch to wear with tonight’s dinner outfit. It was a small collection for one in his position, but much larger than he would have ever expected to own. And yet, somehow, he often felt like he had nothing to wear to these fancy dinners. He wasn’t sure if the fact that his in-laws were the guests of honor tonight made it better or worse. It certainly didn’t make choosing an outfit any easier.

     Finally, he saw a glint of antique gold, and reached into the pile of jewelry to remove that piece. It was the prefect color choice for tonight, would perfectly match the general autumn color scheme he had chosen…and as he finally pulled the brooch free of the pile, his heart lurched. It was the heart-shaped brooch Thranduil had given him late one summer so many long centuries ago. He had nearly forgotten about it – more like pushed the memories aside on purpose, really – but as he looked at the gift now they all came flooding back. Thranduil’s handwriting in his letters…the way his eyes had sparkled and his cheeks had gone pink when he first saw Elrond wearing the brooch…cuddling with him in bed after the feast, and waking up with Thranduil’s head on his chest the next morning…

     “What troubles you so, my dear?”

     He looked up at Celebrían, standing in the door to their bedroom and smiling softly at him, her eyes filled with warmth and concern. Elrond took a deep breath and looked down at the brooch, then back to his wife. “Old memories,” he said. “Nothing of any real importance anymore.”

     She crossed the distance between them, and as he often was at times like this, he was struck by her grace. She reached out a long-fingered hand and gently took the brooch from him, turning it over in her hands to get a better look at it. “This is lovely,” she said. “But I have never seen you wear it. When did you get it?”

     “When I live in Lindon,” he said. “From an admirer.”

     Celebrían looked up at him and her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Oooh, an admirer?” she teased. “Some Lindon beauty, I suppose?”

     _You do not even know the half of it_. Elrond simply nodded to her. “Indeed.”

     “So what happened?” she asked. “How is it that I am the Lady of Imladris and not the one who gave you such a lovely gift?”

     Elrond bowed his head. “It…simply was not meant to be, I suppose.”

     Celebrían just watched him for a moment, then gently rested her hand on his cheek. “You miss this admirer of yours.” Elrond simply nodded, and she pursed her lips, though there was no anger in her expression. “You have good memories of that time though, do you not?” He nodded again, and she smiled once more. “Then you should wear this!” she said, and she reached up to pin the brooch at his throat. “There is no harm in remembering a happy past, Elrond.”

     Elrond finally raised his eyes to his mirror, and for a moment the reflection seemed to distort so that it wasn’t silver-haired Celebrían beside him, but golden-haired Thranduil, head tilted and eyes sparkling like stars as he smiled back at Elrond. But then the image was gone, replaced by the actual reflection of Celebrían with her hands on his arm, smiling up at him as she waited for him to absorb the wisdom of her words. Elrond took a deep breath. “You’re right, as you always are,” he said, and then managed to smile at her. She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

     “Nana, Ada!” Both elves looked up to see their daughter Arwen in the doorway, radiant as ever. She laughed at them and came to stand by them, reaching out to take their hands. “Come now, my grandparents waiting and they want a good dinner before we leave in the morning!”

     Elrond gave a dramatic sigh. “Ah, Celebrían, where did we go wrong, our child is so eager to leave us for Lothlorien!”

     Celebrían just shook her head sadly. “If only I knew, husband mine, if only I knew.”

   Arwen shook her head. “You act as though I am never coming back,” she said. “But you know I will return!” She paused and studied her father, tilting her head a bit. “I have never seen you wear this brooch before…is it new?”

     “No, my dear, it’s quite old,” Elrond said.

     “He says he got it from an admirer in Lindon,” Celebrían mock-whispered to her daughter, and they giggled together while Elrond just rolled his eyes. His grin made it clear that he too was amused, and only joking with them.

     Arwen finally managed to get between her parents and hooked her arms through theirs. “Well, then, it looks like we know what story Ada can tell at dinner tonight!”

     “None of you need to hear all about my sordid youth in Lindon,” Elrond replied. “The number of books I read…truly shocking, I tell you.” And as they left to go down to dinner together, they all laughed.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Has there been no sign of her?” Lindir asked as he held Elrond’s horse for him. The rain was pouring down around them, plastering Lindir’s hair and clothing to him. Elrond had no idea how long the young minstrel and aide had waited for him in the courtyard, but the sight of waterlogged Lindir only drove home for him how much the residents of Imladris loved their lady.

   “Nothing,” Elrond said. “Don’t bother unsaddling him, I’m only here for a moment.”

     Lindir nodded and simply led the horse off to be cared for, then rushed after Elrond. “What else do you need of me?”

     “An update on who else has returned and found nothing. There’s no point in searching the same areas over and over again.”

     Lindir never had a chance to answer. Just as he opened his mouth, Elladan’s voice cut through the air. “ _Ada we found her_!” Elrond and Lindir both spun around and dashed back to the courtyard, where the twins were just riding in. Both young ellon were covered in orc blood, which dripped down their armor and faces in black rivulets. But their condition was nothing compared to that of Celebrían, who was flopped limply in Elrohir’s arms. Her skin was covered in bruises and cuts, and what little of her clothing they could see was torn and dirty. Elrond and Lindir immediately went to his side and took Celebrían from him, and as soon as she was secure in his arms, Elrond rushed inside with her. He had no other thought in his mind beyond healing her of her injuries – and if the blood caking her clothing and matted hair were any indication, she needed a lot of care.

     It was hours before Elrond emerged from the healing room, grim-faced and exhausted. Darkness had long since fallen, and while most of Imladris slept, the twins and Lindir had remained awake, waiting outside of the healing room’s doors for any word from Elrond. Somehow, they managed to restrain themselves from tackling Elrond as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes in a vain effort to get a few minutes of rest. But finally, he looked up at his sons.

     “You found her?” he asked. His voice was horse and weak. The twins simply nodded, clinging to each other and staring at their father, eyes wide in fear. “Then…you know what the orcs did to her?” Elrond asked. They nodded again, and that seemed to sap the last of his energy from him. He sagged forward, and Lindir went to him to offer support and to help him sit before he fell over.

     “Will she live?” Elrohir asked.

     Elrond shook his head slowly. “I do not know, my son. I’ve done what I can…this…is the sort of thing that elves were never meant to survive.”

     The twins looked at each other in despair, then swooped down on their father to hug him. Lindir backed away as the three elves tried to comfort each other, though as Elrohir began to sob against his father’s shoulder, Lindir did reach out to stroke his hair. Finally, Elrond looked up at his aide. “Lindir, send a message to Arwen. She should come home, as soon as possible.” Lindir simply nodded and went off to fulfill his task, leaving the huddled family behind in the dark hallway.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Mithlond was much as Elrond remembered it from his visit with Gil-galad so many centuries before, but he had little attention for the scenery today. He was here to put his wife on a boat, much earlier than he had ever expected to. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that after he married her, he had expected to leave Middle-Earth with Celebrían, but not until much later in the Third Age. To have to send her off now, like this, with their children clinging to them and crying in grief, seemed far too cruel.

     Celebrían, however, seemed relieved when she finally spotted the boat that was to carry her over the sea to Valinor. “There it is,” she whispered. “It’s almost over.”

     Elrond put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I could go with you, if you wished it,” he said. “You have but to ask.”

     She clucked her tongue at him and shook her head. “Oh no, Elrond, I could do no such thing to you.” When he frowned at her, she smiled softly and added, “Your heart is still here in Middle-Earth, I can feel it. You still belong here. You still have things to accomplish here. I will not take you away from this place before your time.”

     “Even though that is _your_ fate?” he asked. “To leave before your time?”

     Celebrían pulled away from him so she could turn to face him, and reached up to take his face in her hands. “Ah, my dear…I think it is my time. We don’t all come to such a thing in a gentle way, you know.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “We had many happy centuries and three fine children together, and now you can stay here for them until they decide what to do. After all, they still have their own choice to make – the fate of Elves or the fate of Men.”

     Elrond sighed and looked away from her. “I feel guilty nonetheless,” he said. “You could have had a better life here. I could have been better to you…”

     “Do not talk like that,” she said, and for the first time in a long time she favored him with a bright smile. “I was very happy with you, Elrond. And still I would be, if I did not fear this shadow overtaking my heart and taking me away from all that I love forever.” She took his hands and squeezed them. “You are a wonderful husband, and I have been truly lucky to share my life with you.” She glanced over at their children, huddled together as they tried to make sense of their mother’s fate. “Promise me you’ll look after them. Don’t smother them. But don’t leave them to struggle on with no love or guidance, either. And promise me that you will find some happiness again, on your own, or with another. I grant you the freedom to find another partner, if you wish.”

     Elrond nodded, then hugged her tightly. “I promise, dear one. I promise.”

     He stepped aside to let her say goodbye to Arwen and the twins, and then the four elves together watched her board the ship. She turned to wave at them once more just before stepping onto the boat, but the moment her foot touched the deck, she looked to them no longer. They watched until even their keen eyes could no longer see her boat, and then turned to follow Círdan to his house. They would stay the night before going back to Imladris in the morning. But Elrond would get no sleep, and he was sure his children wouldn’t either. They were all too busy missing Celebrían to even think about rest.


	31. Chapter 28

     Dúlinnel made a quick recovery after her birth, and Thranduil was pleased. He had worried about her, and thought he had rarely been allowed to spend much time with her (at her own request), what he did see of her showed a young elleth who seemed to enjoy motherhood. Whenever he was allowed to visit her, she was playing with their baby, who already seemed to be a very happy little elf. Thranduil did enjoy watching her at those moments, and he enjoyed watching his elfling even more (though of course the best times were when _he_ got to play with the child). And yet, somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the calm before the storm, the lead-up to yet another dark chapter in his life, and that unnerved him. He wanted things to keep going well. He wanted their little family to be as happy and healthy as possible. He had even begun to think that maybe it wasn’t the baby’s _birth_ that he should have counted on to help produce a chance in their relationship, but the act of raising their child and being the best possible parents to him. After all, he and his wife seemed to get along well during his visits, when they both watched and played with their son…

     But even within a few days of the baby’s birth, Thranduil began to have his doubts about his newest theory. As the initial excitement over the birth wore off and he felt like he could pay more attention to his wife, he noticed that she was cool not only towards him, but also towards their baby. It didn’t seem that she disliked the child, but…he couldn’t really explain it…she was detached, and sometimes sad, and despite his best efforts to help, she remained that way (though she did seem grateful that he had noticed and tried to help). Once, he found her reading a letter, but whatever was in it didn’t seem to help her much, and when he asked about it she had no desire to share it. After a time, Thranduil decided to leave her alone. Perhaps she would come to him herself, if she wanted something from him.

 

***   ***   ***

   Thranduil looked up as the door to his study opened and a slim figure in a voluminous grey cloak slipped inside and closed the door behind her. His wife had come to see him, but he couldn’t imagine why. He frowned a little and leaned back in his chair, watching as she stepped closer to the desk and finally entered the globe of light his candles cast. “Dúlinnel?” he asked. “What troubles you? Why are you dressed in your travelling cloak?”

     She sat down in one of the chairs he usually kept for guests or for Galion and stared down at her hands for a long time. Thranduil didn’t interrupt her. Finally, though, she looked up, and he could see the sadness in her deep blue eyes. “I am leaving, Thranduil,” she finally said.

     His mouth dropped open in shock and he clutched the arms of his own chair. “W-what do you mean, leaving?” he asked. “You only just bore a child! Surely you’re in no condition to travel. Where are you going? When will you be back?”

     Dúlinnel sighed. “Thranduil…your concern is touching, truly it is…but I simply cannot stay. I…have done my duty to you. To you and your father and my parents. I was told to provide you with an heir and I have. But Thranduil…” she looked down at her hands again, then slowly pulled the gold wedding band from her finger and set it on the corner of his desk. “We never loved each other, and despite your efforts during my pregnancy, still we do not. My heart aches more and more each day when I think of the one I _do_ love. I…just a few weeks ago, as I lay in bed waiting to be delivered of our child, I received a letter from her. She is going to the Undying Lands. And now…I wish to join her.”

     “Dúlinnel…” Thranduil bit hard on his lip. “But what about our son? He needs his mother.”

     “He will never remember me,” she said, “and best of all, he’ll have you.” She suddenly stood and rounded the desk, coming to kneel in front of him so she could take his hands. “You will be a wonderful father to him, of this I have no doubt. But I remember you telling me once, when we first began trying to beget a child, that you wanted your child to be born of love…and we could not accomplish that. Surely you don’t want your child to be raised in a loveless home?”

     Thranduil squeezed her hands a little. “But I would have him know a mother’s love.”

     “And I would have myself not die of grief at being separated from my heart’s true love,” she said. “Our son can have a mother who lives and will see him someday in Valinor, or a mother who is dead. And in the meantime, he will have you and Galion and his nurses to shower him with all the affection he deserves.”

     He sighed sadly and closed his eyes, then nodded. Clearly, there was no changing her mind, and fighting her would only make it worse. “Then…at least know, I may not have loved you as a husband should love his wife, but it was never your fault, and ultimately I did care for you, even if I never did enough to show it. Our son will know that his mother was a kind and beautiful elleth, I swear this to you.”

     Dúlinnel reached up to give his cheek a gentle pat. It was the most intimate touch he could ever remember her giving him, for even in their efforts to have a child she had avoided touching him more than strictly necessary. “I appreciate your words, Thranduil, truly I do. I think in other circumstances, we would have been better friends. I do not blame you for this…you and I were in exactly the same situation.” Finally, she stood and smoothed her cloak around her, then pushed her ring towards him to draw his attention to it. “I release you from our bond, Thranduil. And I hope that someday, you have the chance to be with the one your heart truly loves again.” And with that, she was gone, as though she had never been in Mirkwood to begin with.

     Thranduil studied her ring for several long minutes, then removed his own and put them both in an envelope. He would have to do something with them – he didn’t want to keep them, as they would only serve as a reminder of yet another loss, yet another failure on his part. But for now, he tossed the envelope and the rings within it into the top drawer of his desk, then turned back to his papers and lost himself in his work. He had no idea how long he had been there, and didn’t care to know, until the door to his study opened once again. He looked up at the new person approaching his desk. “You know the Queen is gone, yes?” he asked.

     Galion just waved his hand. “I heard, and I am sorry,” he replied. “But it’s your son I’ve come to you about.” When Thranduil didn’t say anything, he continued, “The child is crying and hasn’t stopped in some time. He won’t eat or sleep and he is perfectly clean and dry. His nurses are concerned, and so am I. You are the only one left who might be able to soothe him.”

     Thranduil nodded and got up to follow Galion back to the nursery, where a whole crowd of nurses and servants were busy trying to quiet the wailing baby. Galion hung back a respectful distance, and Thranduil pushed through the crowd until he reached the nurse who was currently trying to quiet the child. “Here,” he said softly, “let me take him.” She was quite grateful to give up the crying bundle to the king, who took the baby awkwardly. Thranduil still hadn’t quite figured out how to hold a baby properly, and was always afraid he would drop his son, and right now was no different. It didn’t help that the baby didn’t stop screaming, either.

     Thranduil sighed. “All of you, leave please,” he said. “Except Galion. The rest of you can go for the time being.” For a few seconds he was surrounded by a flurry of bows and murmurs of polite leave-taking, and then everyone but Galion left. Galion approached Thranduil slowly, frowning a little.

     “Why have me stay?” he asked.

     “Because I have no idea what I’m doing and I need help,” Thranduil replied, his voice quivering as he fought back tears. “Nobody ever bothered to teach me anything about…babies or children, not even since the baby was born.” He bit his lip and looked down at the still-crying baby, whose face was bright red and whose tiny hands were balled into fists as he sobbed. “Valar, why won’t he stop _crying_?”

     “Here,” Galion said gently, and he reached out to adjust the way the baby lay in Thranduil’s arms. “Put your hands like this…make sure you support his head, don’t let it bend forward like that so much or he can’t breathe well…” They waited, but that didn’t seem to help. Thranduil rocked him a bit, but still the baby cried. Galion found an extra blanket and bunched it up so that it looked roughly baby-like, and held it as though he was holding a baby against his shoulder. “Try holding him like this.”

     Thranduil eyed the way Galion was holding the blanket, then slowly shifted his grip on the baby so that he held the child against his shoulder. At first, that didn’t seem to help either, but then the baby’s sobs died down to quieter cries, then soft whimpers, and finally he fell quiet. “I can’t believe that worked,” Thranduil whispered to Galion.

     “He misses his mother already,” Galion whispered back. “I remember seeing her hold him like that sometimes. Maybe he liked it.”

     Thranduil gave it a few more minutes, then slowly lowered the baby back to simply laying in his father’s arms. The tiny elfling was sound asleep. “Will he wake up if I put him down?”

     “Only one way to find out, I’m afraid,” Galion said.

     Thranduil considered putting the child back in his basket, then shook his head. “I won’t take that chance now. But…can you have his basket brought into my room? I would rather have him there than in here where I can’t even hear him on my own.”

     Galion simply nodded and set to work moving the basket and all of the associated bedding, while Thranduil slowly wandered around the room and watched his son sleep. When Galion returned, he went back to Thranduil’s side and watched the baby too. “What will you name him? You need to decide soon, his presentation and naming are both in ten days.”

     Thranduil sighed yet again and closed his eyes. “I have no idea. Dúlinnel said she had no dreams about him…not that I’m sure I believe her now…and I have had no insight either.”

     “Well…keep him close for a few days, then,” Galion suggested. “Maybe something will come to you.”

     The next several days were among the most awkward to ever happen in Thranduil’s halls, for he took Galion’s advice very seriously and never let the baby out of his sight. It often meant that a visiting dignitary or messenger would be conversing with Thranduil while, only a few feet away, the baby slept in his basket, played with Galion’s hair or some toy, or was fed by one of his wet nurses. Sometimes, business even had to be conducted with the baby resting in one of Thranduil’s arms while he wrote or gestured with the other. But while Thranduil and his son clearly forged a strong bond over those days, the king still had no idea what to name the baby. He was giving serious consideration to just polling his closest servants and advisers and choosing the best name from their suggestions, when finally, he found his inspiration.

     On a particularly sunny and warm day, Thranduil decided to have his dinner outside, and of course the baby and his small retinue of attendants went with him. It turned out to be windier than Thranduil had expected, but he decided it was still safe enough to be outside, and simply made sure that the baby was well covered in blankets before sitting down to his dinner, holding the baby in one arm as usual. He had made it most of the way through the first course when a particularly strong gust blew through, knocking things off the table and tearing leaves from the trees. Thranduil curled protectively around his baby and got up to go back inside…and paused. He took a closer look at his son and frowned a little. The child was staring at the scenery with a great intensity for one so young, and as a gust of wind sent a cloud of leaves swirling around them, he waved his arms and laughed. “Don’t tell me you like this wind,” Thranduil said, smiling fondly at the child. The baby ignored him, continuing to focus on the swirling leaves instead. Thranduil watched the leaves too, then reached out and plucked one from the air. “Or maybe it’s these you like…” he said, offering the leaf to the baby. It took a few tries, but he finally grabbed the unfamiliar green object, waved it triumphantly, and then promptly began chewing it.

     Thranduil watched him in wonder for a moment, then laughed. “So is that it, then?” he asked softly. “You like the green leaves? …Green leaves…but only one, really…green leaf?” He studied the baby, who paused in his vigorous leaf-chewing to give his father a rather solemn look, then cheerfully wave the now-wet leaf around again. “Yes,” Thanduil said. “I think that’s your name, then, my little green leaf… Legolas.”


	32. Interlude: Leaves of Mirkwood and Lorien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not feeling well today and y'all are awesome readers, so I decided to cheer us all up and treat you to a second chapter today ;) This one is full of cuteness anyway so it should be a bit of a pick-me-up after all the depressing sadness of the last few chapters.

    It had been years, or perhaps even centuries, since Thranduil had felt so happy. But today was a day like no other, for today was the day he presented his son to the world. His heart was near to bursting with pride and pure joy as he sat on his great antlered throne, cradling the tiny bundle (which still seemed to him to be all soft blond hair and tiny pointed ears and big blue eyes) in his arms. Thranduil had even forgone his usual ostentatious clothes and crown today, choosing instead to wrap his son in a blanket of leafy green and sparkling silver while he himself wore simple gray, ensuring that all eyes would be on the elfling.

     “It’s your big day, little one,” he whispered as Galion addressed the gathered crowd, listing off all of Legolas’s ancestors and weaving a great tale of love, beauty, and heroic deeds leading to the young prince’s conception and birth. If anyone knew that most of the story was a carefully-crafted, prettied-up version of what really happened, they were too polite to show it. “Look at all the people who came to see you.”

     Legolas just blinked at his father and yawned, looking singularly unimpressed with everything going on around him. He whined and squirmed a little and Thranduil cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his perfect little cheek with one finger. As Legolas calmed down, Thranduil let his eyes scan the crowd. Celeborn had come from Lorien with a retinue of marchwardens, musicians, healers, and others he had thought would represent the great Elven realm well. Thranduil was surprised to see a small child of no more than three or four years old in the mix, dressed in a miniature marchwarden uniform and standing rather solemnly beside a handsome marchwarden. When he noticed the Elvenking watching, he turned and clung to the marchwarden’s leg, which earned him a gentle pat on the head and adoring chuckles from the adults around him. Círdan of Mithlond had been unable to attend himself, but had sent his most trusted adviser and a host of guards and gift-bearers. There were some representatives of Men and Dwarves present as well, and much to Thranduil’s surprise it seemed that the Dwarves had complied with his request that they leave all armor and weapons at the door. Even Imladris had sent a small group of representatives, led by Glorfindel and including Lindir, as well as some others Thranduil didn’t recognize.

   But there was no Elrond. And with a twinge of sadness, Thranduil realized there never would be again.

     Legolas began to grumble again and Thranduil once more stroked his cheek. “Just a little longer,” he said. “I promise, and then you can sleep or be fed or whatever it is you want, okay?” Legolas pouted at him (or seemed to, at least) and Thranduil chuckled, cuddling him just a bit closer. “You had better get used to this. You’re a Prince, you know.”

     Galion finally stopped talking and Thranduil descended from his throne to the landing just one staircase below it, so that his guests could file forward and greet the little prince themselves. Celeborn and his entourage were ushered forward first, and Lorien’s lord carefully leaned forward to greet Thranduil with a kiss on each cheek. “You must be pleased, Thranduil,” he said. “You certainly look better than I have seen you in a long time.”

     “I am very pleased, my lord,” Thranduil said, and both elves smiled down at the baby. “He’s perfect, and already I find it hard to be separated from him for even a moment.”

     Celeborn gave the Elvenking a sad, knowing glance, for while he didn’t know all of the details, he was one of the few who knew that Dúlinnel had already gone and that Galion’s pretty tale was mostly untrue. He then stepped aside so his companions could see as well. They had mostly filed by and begun to make room for Círdan’s representatives when a surprisingly loud voice piped up from much closer to the floor. “Ada, I wanna see the baby!” The adults laughed (even the Dwarves, whose deep and jovial guffaws could be heard above the din) and the marchwarden who was clearly the elfling’s father looked deeply embarrassed.

     “Young one, there are others behind us, I don’t think…”

     He trailed off as, much to his surprise, the Elvenking simply smiled and sank gracefully to his knees. The elfling took a step forward, then seemed to realize that he was now face to face with a stranger he had never met before, and promptly stepped back. He clung to his father’s leg with one arm, his other hand held in front of his chest and balled into a tiny little fist, and stared in wide-eyed wonder at the king.

     Thranduil tilted his head a little as he studied the boy. “I’m Thranduil,” he said softly, so that only those gathered closest could hear. “And this is my son Legolas,” he added, nodding down to the baby in his arms. “What’s your name, little marchwarden?”

     Being addressed by a title seemed to encourage the tiny elfling, and he took a tentative step forward before bowing and whispering, “H-Haldir.”

     “Haldir, that’s a wonderful name for someone as strong and grown-up as you,” Thranduil said. Haldir’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in a huge smile, and Thranduil motioned for him to step closer. “You can come near, it’s alright. Come say hello to Legolas.”

     Haldir glanced up at his father, who simply nodded, and so he scurried forward until he was right in front of Thranduil. He rested his hands on the bundle of fabric surrounding the baby and stood on his toes to see him. Legolas simply blinked up at him a little. Haldir stared back, then gave the prince’s hand a little poke, and nearly squealed in delight when Legolas’s tiny little fingers closed over his own. The two children stared at each other, then Haldir looked up at Thranduil and declared, with great solemnity, “We’re gonna be friends someday and we’re never gonna be apart.”

     Thranduil opened and closed his mouth a few times, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out how to answer Haldir. Finally, he just smiled again and said, “I think that Legolas would very much like to have you as a friend, so I hope you’re right, Marchwarden Haldir.”

     Haldir’s father finally leaned down and gently steered Haldir out of the way. “Come now, my son, let’s let the other people meet Legolas too, okay?” he asked, then, as Haldir chattered away about all the fun things he and Legolas could do in Lorien, he looked back at Thranduil and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.” Thranduil simply bowed his head a bit in acknowledgement and allowed Galion to help him stand again, and the line of people coming to greet the new Prince continued on.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The sounds of elflings laughing and shrieking as they ran through the halls of Thranduil’s stronghold cut off rather abruptly, only to be replaced by sobs and sniffles. Thranduil put his papers down and frowned at the door to his study, then stood and went to see what the commotion was about. Just a short way down the hall from his door, Legolas was sprawled on the floor, with Haldir crouched over him and trying to coax him back to his feet. When he saw the Elvenking, though, he quickly backed up against the wall, eyes wide.

     “I didn’t do anything!” he protested as Thranduil swooped down to check Legolas for horrible injuries.

     “I’m sure you didn’t do anything on purpose, little one,” he said, and carefully picked his son up off the floor. Legolas looked at him and sniffled. “Legolas? What happened?”

     “I tripped…” the tiny prince said, looking down as though ashamed. “And I fell.”

     “Are you injured?” Thranduil asked, examining his son for signs of damage. He saw no torn clothes or bloody spots.

     Legolas pondered, then shook his head. “Just surprised…” he mumbled.

     “Surprised, hmm?” Thranduil said. “Well, yes, sometimes that does happen.” He stood up, then leaned forward and scooped Legolas into his arms and kissed his cheek. His son giggled and pushed at his shoulders.

   “Adaaaaaa, noooooooo,” he whined, but his laughter indicated that he was really quite alright with being cuddled, kissed, and generally spoiled.

     Thranduil laughed too, then looked down at Haldir, who was still standing against the wall and who had now bowed his head. He was poking at the floor with his toe, and he sniffled every now and then. Thranduil’s face fell as he watched the elfling, then he shifted Legolas’s weight so he could hold the prince with one arm, and leaned down to scoop Haldir up with the other. Haldir gasped, then clung to Thranduil’s clothes, and laughed when Thranduil kissed his cheek too.

     “Now then, my little elflings,” Thranduil said. “Whatever shall I do to cheer you up…Ah, I know! Galion told me we got a new shipment of fruit from Laketown this morning and that it includes something exotic the Men call _oranges_. He said they smell delicious and are probably very sweet. Would you like to go try some with me?” The elflings cheered and hugged Thanduil, who just laughed more and headed down the hall with them to go in search of oranges.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil glanced up as his bedroom door opened and a tiny voice called, “Ada?” Legolas stood there, half-in and half-out of the room as though he wasn’t sure he should be there, and he shuffled his feet a little, eyes downcast. The whole scene was made all the more awkward by the fact that he had finally hit a growth spurt and, despite not even being a teenager yet, was already quite tall and lanky even by Elvish standards. But his eyes were still those of a child, and right now, they were filled with fear.

     “Legolas, whatever is the matter?” Thranduil asked, closing his book and setting it aside. He held his arms out, and almost instantly Legolas was in them, burrowing down under the blankets and furs that covered his father’s bed and resting his head on Thanduil’s chest.

     “Bad dream,” he said between sniffles.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” Thranduil asked. He held his son close, stroking his hair gently and watching him intently. Legolas shook his head no, so Thranduil asked, “Well, do you want to stay here then?” Legolas shook his head again, but much more slowly this time, and Thranduil frowned. “But you always do when you have a bad dream…”

     “I’m getting too big for that,” Legolas muttered, and somehow that pronouncement seemed to bother him more than his dream had.

     Thranduil sighed. “Now who told you that?” he asked, though he already had a good idea. Even as the king’s son, Legolas wasn’t completely immune to childhood teasing, and two youngsters in particular liked to target him.

     “Mírdan and Edenion,” Legolas said. Just as Thranduil had suspected.

     “Well, you know something?” he asked. Legolas looked up at him, curiosity fighting the fear for supremacy in his eyes, and Thranduil continued, “It doesn’t matter what they think or what they say. There is only one person who gets to decide when you’re too big for staying with me when you have a nightmare, and it’s not them or any of your other friends, or their parents, or Galion, or even me. Do you know who it is?”

     “Me?” Legolas asked.

     Thranduil nodded and tapped the tip of his son’s nose. “That’s right, you. You’re always welcome with me, ion-nin. And I will always be here for you.”

     Legolas sniffled a little and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve, then nodded. “Can I stay here with you?”

     “Of course you can,” Thranduil said. He kissed the top of his son’s head and added, “But let me get up and find you a pillow.”

     Thranduil was rummaging through his wardrobe in search of one of the extra pillows he kept there when his bedroom door opened once more. He looked up, expecting to see Galion coming to check up on him once more before turning in for the night, and was surprised when instead of his butler and friend he saw Haldir. The young elf had only just entered his teenage years, though he was a bit small for an elf his age, and even in the dim light of the dying candles in his room Thranduil could tell that Haldir was trying to look solemn rather than frightened.

   “Haldir?” he asked. “Do you need something?”

     “I…” Haldir looked around, and his eyes finally fell on Legolas, who was leaning against the headboard and hugging his knees to his chest while he waited for his father to return with a pillow. “I-it’s nothing, I shouldn’t have bothered you…”

     Thranduil reached out and touched his shoulder. “Whatever has a young future marchwarden of Lorien out of his bed and seeking my help in the middle of the night is surely not nothing,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

     Haldir sighed and leaned closer to whisper, “I don’t want to upset Legolas…he doesn’t know about the spiders today…”

     “Ah.” Thranduil nodded in understanding. Haldir had only just arrived for his annual visit to Mirkwood earlier that day, and for the first time in all the years he had been coming to stay with Thranduil and Legolas in their halls, he and his companions had been attacked by giant spiders. And as though that wasn’t bad enough, this had been his first year travelling without his father in his party. Though neither Haldir nor his companions had been badly injured, the young elf had arrived at his destination clearly terrified, and had remained jumpy for the rest of the day. Thranduil could remember his own first encounter with the spiders. It had been terrifying enough for him, and he had been an adult warrior with experience against far worse creatures. He didn’t blame Haldir one bit for being tormented by such fresh memories.

     “So you had a bad dream as well,” he said, loudly enough for Legolas to hear.

     Haldir just looked confused for a moment, but then he caught on and nodded. “Yes. I did. Um…”

     Thranduil smiled a little and handed him a pillow, then dug out a second one for Legolas. “There is never shame in seeking comfort from your fears, Haldir,” he said. “Come now. You need sleep.”

     Thranduil himself didn’t get much sleep that night, sandwiched as he was between two elflings who squirmed and clung to him in their sleep and didn’t let go at all until morning. But he didn’t care that he had to go through his day a little sore and sleepy if it meant that the youngsters – one his son by birth, the other a child he loved as his own – felt safe and slept well.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Haldir laughed and held out a hand to help Legolas climb back up the bank. “Leave it to you to fall in the river,” he teased. “I thought you Mirkwood elves were used to this sort of thing.”

     Legolas just pouted at him. “Well, I’m not _used to_ this river,” he said. “Or, you know, where to step without falling.”

     “Excuses, excuses,” Haldir said, grinning down at Legolas. “Now come on, take my hand and pull, on three. One…two…”

     Before Haldir could get to three, Legolas yanked on his hand hard, sending the young trainee marchwarden tumbling head over heels down the embankment and into the river with him. Haldir came up spluttering and spitting out a mouthful of mud and water, then turned to gape at Legolas, who was laughing so hard that he had fallen right back into the water. This section of the river was shallow and slow-moving. Perfect for the mischievous young elves’ antics.

     “You did that on purpose!” Haldir said, pushing his wet hair back out of his face. A single golden lock still clung to his cheek, but he ignored it.

     “Of course I did!” Legolas replied, finally sitting upright. “You were practically asking for it.”

     Haldir just rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend, then stood and began climbing up the river bank. Back at the top, he turned and held a hand out to Legolas once more, and this time the younger elf behaved properly and allowed Haldir to pull him from the river. They flopped down on the carpet of grass and fallen leaves on the forest floor, both still laughing every now and then as they thought about their latest adventure. Without even really know why, or even how they knew to do so, they simultaneously rolled onto their sides so they were facing each other. Their eyes met, and Haldir shivered a little. His automatic reaction was to blame the wind, or the cool air, but it was warm today and there had been no wind. There was only one explanation.

     He had been thinking about this a lot lately, ever since his last summer in Mirkwood with Legolas, when he had first noticed that their friendship seemed to have taken a turn for the intimate that he hadn’t expected. For almost forty years, Haldir had been spending a portion of each year with Legolas and his father in their home. Thranduil had been much more protective of Legolas, and it had only been within the last few years (since Legolas had turned thirty-five) that he had allowed his only child to visit Lorien for any length of time, and the ability to spend a month or two together away from Thranduil’s loving but prying eyes had thrown their relationship into a whole new light, at least for the young future marchwarden. He remembered the first time he led Legolas into Caras Galadhon, how beautifully the light in the forest had shown on him and made him look like something out of legend, at least in Haldir’s eyes. And then Legolas had turned to him, smiling his bright smile, eyes sparkling with the excitement of all the new things he was about to see and experience in Haldir’s home, and Haldir had nearly felt his heart burst with the joy of it all.

     For the longest time, he had just assumed they were particularly close friends. He assumed the ache he felt in his heart when they were apart was a normal thing for friends to feel, and was surprised when he realized that he didn’t feel it when he was apart from his other friends. Then he thought that perhaps Legolas was like a brother to him, but a quick reflection on his relationships with his actual brothers put that notion to rest. And then, just two years ago, his father and mother (both talented marchwardens) had been killed in a battle, and Haldir found himself in charge of caring for his brothers. He had opted not to visit Mirkwood that year for the first time since he had been small, and Thranduil had feared too much for Legolas’s safety to allow him to visit Lorien. It was the first time they had been separated for so long, and by the time the next summer rolled around, Haldir felt that his separation from Legolas had become physically painful. Celeborn and Galadriel had kindly offered to watch Haldir’s brothers for him that summer, and he made his trip to Thranduil’s Mirkwood stronghold in record time. That summer, he and Legolas had greeted each other with a tight hug, and in Legolas’s presence, Haldir had felt warm, safe…whole. And that evening, Galion had casually mentioned that Legolas had been moping about the halls of Mirkwood for months, talking about how much he missed his ‘other half.’

     That summer, he lost track of the number of times they fell asleep leaning against each other, hugging each other, curled up against each other, or with one resting his head in the other’s lap, usually as a direct result of staying up so late talking that they just fell asleep where they sat. He lost track of the number of times they would just casually touch each other, like the times when they went walking in the woods and Legolas just tucked his hand into Haldir’s without giving it a second thought. He lost track of the number of times they brushed and braided each other’s hair, and would never forget the look on Thranduil’s face when he noticed them wearing each other’s preferred hair styles (though he had never quite been able to tell if the king was pleased, upset, or something else entirely). And of course it had just continued on when Legolas returned to Lorien with him.

     After Legolas returned to Mirkwood that year, Haldir had tried to put it all out of his mind. That was just how things were with Legolas. Had they lived in the same place, they would have been truly inseparable. Those things they did to show each other affection were just the natural result of spending part of their year apart. But then it was happening again this year, and Haldir was no longer so sure that he and Legolas were just friends. Not with the way his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest when Legolas smiled at him or laughed at his jokes. Not with the way he felt warmth spread from his chest out to every inch of his body when their eyes met.

     Not with the way Legolas was looking at him right now, so happy and content on his bed of grass, with the marchwarden beside him.

     Legolas reached out and gently pushed the wet lock of hair off of Haldir’s cheek. “What are you thinking?” he asked softly. “It’s almost as though your body is here but your mind is miles away.”

     “I was…thinking about us, actually,” Haldir confessed. It had never been any use to lie to Legolas. Somehow, he always seemed to know the lies before Haldir was even done telling them.

     “What about us?” Legolas asked.

     “I…ugh, how do I even explain this?” Haldir sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, then took Legolas’s hand in his own. “I…you have always been my best and closest friend, for as long as I can remember…our parents always said I declared we would be friends right there in front of everyone at your presentation day.” The reminder of the story they both knew so well (both Thranduil and Haldir’s father had often told it to them) brought a bright smile to Legolas’s face, which in turn made Haldir’s heart race and his cheeks began to burn. He sat up abruptly, hoping to hide the redness on his cheeks from Legolas. “But lately I find myself thinking that maybe…maybe we’re not just friends, Legolas. Maybe there’s more to us than that.”

     “More like what?” Legolas sat up too, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched Haldir.

     _Ugh, he’s not going to make this easy on me_. “I…I think…Legolas…” He sighed, irritated with himself.

     Legolas scooted closer and rested his hand on Haldir’s shoulder. “Haldir, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice full of worry. “What could you possibly be so frightened to tell me?”

     Haldir turned to him, and when he did their faces were mere inches apart. Haldir’s dark eyes searched Legolas’s face for any hint of his feelings, any sign that Legolas might also believe there was more than friendship between them, and as he did he leaned in closer and closer. The younger elf made no move to pull away, his own eyes simply regarding Haldir with great curiosity. “Legolas, I…” And then their lips met, and Haldir couldn’t speak anymore.

     At first he went tense, terrified of Legolas’s reaction, but as the moments dragged by and nothing bad happened, he began to relax. Legolas’s lips were soft and warm, and as their touch lingered, he gently parted his lips to take Haldir’s lower lip between his own, drawing a soft moan from the future marchwarden. He finally drew back, but brought his hand up to rest on Legolas’s cheek. “I love you. And I think I always have. I just didn’t realize it until recently…”

     Legolas blinked at him, then laughed and grinned. “I know that. I’ve always known. And I’ve always know that I love you…it’s just how it’s always been with us, isn’t it?”

     “But…how did you know…?”

     “I don’t know. I just always did.” Legolas reached up to run his fingers through Haldir’s hair. “I always knew you were the only one for me.”

     Haldir blinked at him and shook his head a little. “Why didn’t you ever say something?”

     “I didn’t think it needed to be said.” Legolas grinned shyly. “But it _was_ nice to hear…and I think I like that other thing you did too…”

     Haldir just laughed and pulled him close for another kiss, and at least for a moment, his world was perfect.


	33. Chapter 29

     Time seemed to pass slowly in the forest. Gradually, people of all races stopped calling it the Greenwood and began calling it Mirkwood. Something took over Oropher’s old fortress and the place became known as Dol Guldur, which upset Thranduil greatly, though he did his best not to show it and tried to make others think his feelings were all about the dark creature residing there. But for Thranduil, the affront was personal. Though he had many dark memories of the place, he _had_ lived there once, and good things _had_ happened to him there, and the idea of something defiling his old home was painful. But whatever was there was far too powerful to even consider attacking. Even all these centuries later, his army still had not returned to the strength it had once had before the disastrous Last Alliance, and he wasn’t sure that even an army that large could have dealt with the darkness in Dol Guldur on its own. And so Thranduil remained closed away in his halls, built to remind him of the beautiful Menegroth where he had spent his youth, and focused on keeping his people safe. The guards of Mirkwood became expert orc-hunters and spider-slayers, and Thranduil himself sometimes joined them in their hunts. Aside from the arrival of thirteen dwarves bound for Erebor and the ranger Aragorn appearing with a strange creature for Thranduil to hold in his dungeons, the outside world left Mirkwood and its inhabitants largely alone. The only regular “outside” visitor was Haldir, and Thranduil, Legolas, and the rest of Mirkwood’s inhabitants had long since stopped thinking of and treating him as an outsider.

     And so it was that, one particularly clear summer night, Haldir found himself scouting the edges of the Elvenking’s halls, with Legolas at his side. Though it wasn’t the young prince’s turn to guard his father’s halls (that was to have been Haldir’s duty alone), he and Haldir had been separated for quite some time. Haldir’s marchwarden duties kept him busy and often made it impossible for him to visit Mirkwood, so whenever he did make an appearance in Thranduil’s realm, Legolas would find any excuse to spend every possible moment with him.

     “I miss this place being green,” Haldir said softly. The night was quiet and though he wished to speak with Legolas, it seemed wrong to disturb the silence too much.

     “It will be again someday,” Legolas replied just as softly. “Things are happening, outside our borders, and I think they will influence us here as well.” He brushed his hand over a bush as they passed by. “At least it’s not so bad here, by the halls. I still don’t understand how you make it here safely…the southern part of the wood between here and Lothlorien is so dangerous. I would never go there without reason.”

     “I skirt the edge,” Haldir said. “Go around, like I was going to Laketown, and then take the merchants’ paths in.” He paused to watch Legolas. The younger elf had stepped into a rare clear spot, where neither clouds nor trees blocked the starlight and moonlight, and in the soft light of the stars the young prince was absolutely dazzling. Legolas himself didn’t seem to notice that he had stepped into the starlight, and he seemed blissfully unaware of how he looked in it, but when he turned back to speak to Haldir more, he did notice the other elf grinning at him.

     “What?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

     Haldir chuckled a little and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just…you were made for this kind of light. You’re just gorgeous in it.”

     “Hmm?” Legolas held out his hands and looked down at them. “Huh…I suppose it looks good on me…”

     “I could certainly stare at you in it forever,” Haldir said. He stepped into the light with Legolas and put his arm around the younger elf’s waist.

     “Well I certainly hope you would do more than just stare,” Legolas said. He winked at Haldir and put his own arm around the other elf, tilting his head so it rested on Haldir’s shoulder.

     Haldir simply nodded and turned so he was facing Legolas. “But of course I would. Stare at you, talk to you, walk with you…love you…All of those things, I would do forever…I _want_ to do forever…I…” he blinked a bit and gasped as a rather sudden realization hit him. Why hadn’t he realized it before? Wasn’t this just the logical conclusion of their relationship? “I…Legolas, I want to be with you forever…I want to _marry_ you.”

     Legolas blinked a few times too, mouth opening in surprise, and he gripped Haldir’s shoulders. “Are you certain? Are you serious about this?”

     Haldir considered the other’s words for a moment, the nodded. “With every fiber of my being and every bit of my soul.”

     They stared at each other for a moment, and then Legolas let out a very uncharacteristic squeak and flung himself into Haldir’s arms, gripping the other elf as tightly as he could. “Valar, Haldir…” he murmured.

     Haldir just laughed a little and kissed his ear. “So is that a yes, then? You’ll marry me?”

     The question seemed to dampen Legolas’s spirits a bit, and he slowly pulled back from Haldir, refusing to meet his gaze. “Haldir, I…want to say yes, as much as you want me to,” he said, “but Ada…he has no idea about us, no idea what our relationship has become, and I fear his reaction. I don’t think he would understand.”

     “Legolas, surely your father would understand _love_.”

     Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Have you met Ada, Haldir? I don’t think he has a romantic or sexual bone in his body.”

     Haldir sighed. “But surely he loved once…he was married, and had you.”

     “Yes, but to an elleth. I’m not sure he would understand how I can love another ellon.”

     “So, you’re telling me no, then?”

     Legolas shook his head. “I’m telling you…I need to speak with Ada. And Haldir, I want to say yes, you have to believe that about me. But I do fear Ada’s reaction. What if he says I can’t? What if he doesn’t approve?”

     Haldir stroked his cheek and smiled softly. “Legolas, I know you love your father and you want to stay here. But if he said no, or tried to keep us apart, I really can’t see you going along with that.”

     “No…I would leave Mirkwood if it meant being with you,” Legolas agreed. “But it would be nice to have his blessing. He loves us both, Haldir, you know that, and I would hate to hurt him…” Legolas sighed and shook his head, but then a rather determined look crossed his face. He had made a decision. “Haldir, have no doubt. I will marry you, no matter what he says. But I have to speak with him, and I think it should be just me, at least this first time.” He glanced around, then gave Haldir a quick kiss on the cheek. “Continue your rounds, alright? I’m going to speak with Ada, and I’ll find you when we’re finished. And be careful, the spiders have been growing bolder. Maybe you should even go back to the ready room to find a partner for your rounds.”

     Haldir agreed, and so they returned to the ready room together. Haldir found a young guard he didn’t know very well who was willing to join him, and Legolas dashed off into the depths of the caverns to find his father.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Ada? Can we talk?”

     Thranduil had lost track of how many times he had heard those words, and variations of them, over the years. One the one hand, he loved hearing them, because they told him that Legolas (and sometimes Haldir) loved and trusted him enough to want his advice or comfort or whatever else the young elf sought. But at the same time, he had learned that such words were often the prelude to serious conversations, involving pains he desperately wished his son never had to face, and so he dreaded those words too.

   He looked up to the door of his study, where Legolas stood patiently waiting for an answer, and closed the book of trade records he had been dealing with. Legolas was one of the few beings in all of Middle-Earth who ever received such undivided attention from him. “Of course, ion-nin,” he said. “Come over here, and close the door if you wish.”

     Legolas did close the door, and both he and Thranduil went to sit in the comfortable plush chairs the Elvenking kept near his study’s fireplace. The fireplace was cold now, a fire unnecessary in the heat of the summer, but the chairs were more comfortable and Thranduil hated to discuss things with a desk between himself and his loved ones. It just seemed too cold, somehow. As soon as they were seated, he tilted his head a bit and waited for his son to speak.

     “Ada…” Legolas began, “…you’ve never really talked to me about…if I should get married, or anything like that, and sometimes I wonder if you even have an opinion on the matter.”

     Thranduil blinked at him and took a deep breath, brow furrowing a bit as he tried to figure out where this odd conversation starter would lead. “I have some opinions, of course. I want you marry on your own terms and in your own time, to someone who truly loves you and will treat you properly. Why do you ask?”

     Legolas rubbed at his thighs as though he was trying to keep a chill away, lips pursed and gaze turned away from Thranduil. “There is someone I love, and might like to marry, but I’m not sure if you would approve and I would hate it if you didn’t,” he finally said.

     The Elvenking opened and closed his mouth a few times. Now _that_ was something he hadn’t expected. He had never seen or heard of Legolas courting anyone in any serious way, after all…but then…of course. Was Legolas talking about Haldir? “Ah, Legolas,” he finally said, and he leaned forward to take one of his son’s hands in his own. “I suppose it’s possible there are some partners out there I might not approve of for you,” he said, and immediately felt Legolas go tense. “But I want you to know, if I disapproved, it would be because I didn’t like how they treated you, or something of that nature. Beyond that, I trust you and your judgment. You inherited all the best parts of me and your mother, so why shouldn’t I?” He gave Legolas’s hand a strong squeeze. “Your heart is yours to give to whomever you think is worthy. All I can do, all I have the _right_ to do, is support you and love you and give you whatever help you need to make a good decision.”

     Legolas nodded a little, hope creeping into his eyes as he did. “So…so if I said it was another ellon, how would you…”

     Thranduil smiled at him and reached up to pat his shoulder. “Do you think him truly worthy of your affection?”

     “I do.”

     “And does he treat you well?”

     Legolas blushed a little. “He does.”

     “Does he return your affection?”

     “Absolutely. Marriage was his idea, actually.”

     Thranduil’s smile turned absolutely triumphant and he pulled Legolas closer for a hug. “Then what do you need me for? Go say yes to him! But first…tell me who it is?”

     “Haldir,” Legolas said against his father’s shoulder. He finally pulled back so he could look Thranduil in the face, and added, “It’s always been him. There’s never been anyone else, not even for a moment.”

     _I was right. All those years ago, that thing Haldir said at Legolas’s presentation…I was right._ Thranduil beamed at his son and kissed his forehead. “I’m happy for you, Legolas, for both of you. Haldir is such a fine young ellon, and –“

     Anything else he could say was cut off by the sound of horns ringing through the caverns, and moments later Galion was pounding on the study door and shouting, “We’re under attack! Orcs!”

     The two elves were on their feet in moments, dashing for the door, and Thranduil only paused long enough to retrieve his swords from where he usually kept them by his desk before following Legolas to the ready room. After all, at times like this, even a king had to take up arms.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The battle raged on through the night, and much to his horror, Thranduil could never find Haldir and he lost track of Legolas early on. So he did the only thing he could do – he positioned himself firmly in front of the main gates with a small company of archers and sword-wielding guards, and made certain that every orc that dared show its ugly face to him wound up dead. By the time the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, they had managed to drive the orcs off, and Thranduil took on the task of assessing the damage. The company backing him had sustained no deaths, though there were a few injured elves and he sent them straight to the healers. As he wandered the battlefield searching for Haldir and Legolas, he noted that some of his people had died in the attack, and that realization brought the sharp and painful memories of the Last Alliance and every elf he had ever lost in battle since then right back to his mind and heart. But he had long since perfected his stony king’s face, and even as he noted each dead elf and vowed to remember them personally, his face remained impassive and betrayed no true emotion. Even so, those around him who tended to the dead knew their king well enough to know that he would appear at each and every funeral unless some terribly important matter kept him away, and even then he would find a way to pay his respects in person at some time.

     Finally, he saw the blond head of his son in the crowd, and he rushed over to take Legolas in his arms. The younger elf didn’t even protest, and Thranduil could feel him trembling as they embraced.

     “I can’t find Haldir,” Legolas whispered. “And nobody else has seen him…”

     “Don’t worry,” Thranduil whispered back. “We’ll find him, ion-nin.”

     As it turned out, they didn’t have to look for long. They found Haldir near the area where the river flowed under the wine cellar, having a minor cut on his leg bandaged by one of the healers. As soon as he was free of the healer’s care, he stood and went to hug Legolas, only to be surprised when he found himself part of a three-way hug involving Thranduil as well.

     Thranduil kissed both of their foreheads and closed his eyes as he held them. “My elflings,” he murmured, clearly relieved they had come through the battle mostly unharmed. It was a good while before Thranduil let go of them, and when he finally did, he asked, “What happened out here?”

     Haldir shook his head. “I don’t know. I had made it all the way here in my patrol when the attack began. At first the orcs weren’t here, but I stayed and sent my patrol partner to get reinforcements, just in case they decided to try getting in this way instead. He got back with help just in time, too. Some of us were injured, but we all survived, and no orcs made it past us.”

     Thranduil nodded in satisfaction. “Good, good, this is excellent news,” he said. “But what were the orcs doing here to begin with? What do we have here they could possibly want? They don’t eat Elvish food and as far as wealth goes, they would be better off attacking Erebor, even if it would be a harder battle to win.”

     Neither of the younger elves had an answer, but it didn’t matter, because just as Thranduil finished speaking, Galion and a pair of scouts appeared at their side. “Thranduil,” Galion said. He paused to take a deep breath and rub a stitch in his side. “That creature Aragorn brought us is gone. Gillum or Gallon or whatever his name was.”

     “Gollum?” Legolas asked. “He’s _gone_?”

     “During the raid,” one of the scouts said. “We were supposed to be watching him, but then orcs attacked us and we had to fight…we didn’t see if he ran on his own or if they took him.”

     Thranduil pursed his lips and nodded. “Galion, find some scouts who may be able to track him, and see if they can catch him again. But tell them to be cautious. The orcs may still be out there, and I would rather lose the creature than lose more of our people to orcs.” Galion simply nodded and he and his companions went off to do as he was told. When they were gone, Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes.

     “Someone needs to tell Aragorn what happened,” Legolas said. “He entrusted us with watching Gollum…we failed him.”

     “We had other priorities,” Haldir said. “I think fending off an orc attack trumps guarding Gollum, even if we _were_ doing it as a favor for a friend.”

     Thranduil fought down the smile Haldir’s use of “we” nearly brought to his face. It was nice to know that Haldir counted himself among the Mirkwood elves, just as much as they thought of him as one of them. But now was no time for a smile. “Still, Legolas is right. Aragorn asked us to watch Gollum for a reason, and now that he has escaped, that might change whatever plans Aragorn and his allies were making.”

     Legolas nodded slowly. “I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll gather a party, and go to Imladris. That’s where he’s likely to be by now.”

     The idea of losing Legolas to a quest like that made Thranduil’s stomach twist painfully. “Legolas…we can send anyone.”

     “But it’s my responsibility,” Legolas protested. “I’m the prince here, and guarding the prisoners is one of my tasks. And Aragorn is a friend…he wasn’t just asking you to watch Gollum, he was asking us both. As a prince and as Aragorn’s friend, it is my duty to tell him what happened.”

     Thranduil wanted to argue, but Legolas seemed determined to view the task as his to complete, and something told Thranduil it was better not to argue. Instead, he simply embraced Legolas once more. “I would have you stay,” he whispered, “but I won’t force you to. If you truly believe this is your duty, then go do it, and come back to me safe and whole. But let’s at least wait until the scouts return with news. They may bring Gollum back.”

     Legolas just nodded and squeezed his father tightly, then pulled away from him. “I’ll wait then, but just in case I’ll go pack and be ready to leave as soon as we have news.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Haldir followed Legolas all the way back to his room. He didn’t like the situation any more than Thranduil, but he too knew better than to try talking Legolas out of such things. Still, he wasn’t about to let the other elf leave so easily.

     “I could go with you,” he said. “I could help keep you safe.”

     “The road to Imladris isn’t so dangerous,” Legolas said. He pulled his traveling pack out of his wardrobe and began stuffing things into it – two changes of clothes, a hairbrush, leather ties for his braids, some soap, and other small essentials for the road. “Besides, I don’t think I could take you away from Ada too. He loves you.”

     “I won’t be able to stay here,” Haldir said. “Lady Galadriel will want news of what happened, and she’ll want to strengthen our borders, which means keeping me in Lorien.”

     “Still, you’ll be closer to Ada than me,” Legolas said.

     Haldir hesitated. It hardly seemed like the right time to ask Legolas about such things as weddings, but at the same time…well, he didn’t want Legolas to leave without knowing how his talk with Thranduil had gone. “Speaking of your father…did you tell him?”

     Legolas paused and turned to Haldir, grinning brightly. He nodded. “Like I said. He loves you. He’s fine with it.”

     Haldir felt his own grin coming on. “So…that means, what you said before, about wanting to…”

     Legolas laughed and turned away from his pack to hug and kiss Haldir. “When I come back, we’ll plan our wedding, and I’ll marry you and we’ll love each other forever, just like you said you want to.”

     Haldir laughed in relief and cupped Legolas’s face to give him a deep, proper kiss, and when they finally broke apart again he whispered, “While you’re gone, then, I’ll have the silver rings made, and when we see each other again, I’ll give you yours.”

     Legolas just nodded and rested his head on Haldir’s shoulder. “You know I wouldn’t leave now if I thought there was a choice, right?”

     “Of course,” Haldir said. “But before he died, my Adar used to say that sometimes the hardest thing to do is also the most right. And one of the things I love most about you is how hard you work to do the right thing.”


	34. Chapter 30

     It wasn’t every day that Galion found Thranduil just…standing. Not reading a scroll or looking at the scenery or even drinking a glass of wine. Just…standing perfectly still and staring at nothing with the kind of far-away look that made him wonder if Thranduil had discovered the secret to sleeping while standing up. No, it wasn’t every day that he found the Elvenking like that, but it was happening more and more, and it worried the butler. What did it mean, for Thranduil to just stand like that? Was this what happened to elves when they began to fade? But Thranduil seemed so young for that yet.

     Perhaps the pain was finally getting to him.

     This time, he had found Thranduil in one of his favorite spots in the halls, the little room with a couch and a pool and a view out into the caverns. Thranduil was clearly looking at none of it. But when Galion touched his arm, he snapped back to reality and focused on his friend as though nothing odd had been happening.

     “News of Legolas?” he asked, as he always did when Galion approached him these days.

     Galion fought back the irritated sigh that threatened to pass his lips. “No, Thranduil, nothing new,” he said. “But come now, we both know he’s safe. The Ring was destroyed and I’m sure he’s just in Gondor spending time with his friends and waiting to see the wedding. Haldir has gone to join him there, or so I’ve heard. You know he would have to be there anyway…he is the prince, and we all know you’re in no mood to make such a long trip outside of Mirkwood.”

     Thranduil just nodded, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I know, but I miss him and nothing in the world will convince me of his safety except Legolas himself standing right here in front of me.” His lips turned up in a cold smile. “I have become my father, haven’t I?”

     The very idea would have made Galion furious, if he hadn’t known how much Thranduil must already be suffering from that thought. “You are nothing like your father,” he said firmly. “You’re what your father should have been. Legolas hid his relationship with Haldir from you for a long time, but he _did_ eventually come to you about it, and when he did, you supported him. You let him go off to do the task he felt was his to do even though seeing him leave Mirkwood hurt you. And now, you want him here, because you’re worried, like a good father should be, but _still_ he is out there and you haven’t sent anyone to drag him back. And you and I both _know_ that your father would _not_ have behaved the same.”

     Thranduil sigh a little and crossed the room to the chair he kept beside a table with glasses and a perpetually-filled decanter of wine, and sank into the chair. Much to Galion’s relief, he didn’t reach for the wine. “He better come back soon, and get on with his wedding,” Thranduil said. “I…cannot remain here much long.” He looked up at Galion, and when their eyes met, Thranduil’s eyes looked terribly dull and tired. “I’m so tired, Galion. So exhausted, every day. I think it’s time for me to go.”

   “Go?” Galion demanded. “Go _where_? You don’t mean to sail to Valinor, do you?” Thranduil simply nodded, and Galion knelt down in front of him. “Thranduil, you can’t be serious. Valinor? I thought you never wanted to go there.”

     “And I wouldn’t, if I wasn’t so…worn. Every day it’s a challenge to do anything, now. I just want to see my son home safely and happily wedded and then…it’s time. At least this way I might see Legolas and Haldir again someday.”

     Galion reached out and took his hand. “At least…at least, don’t make your decision until Legolas returns,” he said. “I think a lot of this is your loneliness talking. Things may feel different to you when he comes back.”

     “I suppose you’re right,” Thranduil agreed. “In any case, I won’t leave until after his wedding. I would like to see that, at least.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Legolas’s return to Mirkwood happened while Thranduil was holding court, lounging on his throne as he always did and listening as the guards and scouts gave their reports. The whole thing was interrupted by the sudden shouts of “Legolas has returned!” and “The prince is here!” ringing through the caverns. At first, Thranduil simply didn’t believe his ears, and it wasn’t until Legolas actually appeared on the long steps up to Thranduil’s throne, looking a bit sheepish at his raucous welcome and trailing Haldir behind him, that Thranduil accepted the words as true. Legolas barely made it to the first landing on his way to Thranduil’s throne before the king flew out his seat and down the steps, sweeping Legolas up in his arms.

     “Oh, thank the Valar you’re back,” Thranduil said. “Thank the Valar…I was so worried about you, we went for so long without any news and for the longest time I thought I had lost you and…” He dissolved into tears, unable to say another word and not caring who saw him cry.

     “Ada…” Legolas wrapped his arms around his father and rubbed his back gently. “Ada, it’s fine, I’m back now, and I’m unharmed.”

   Thranduil finally raised his head and smiled at Legolas through his tears. He let go of his son and wiped his tears away, then clapped both him and Haldir on the shoulder. “Well, you’re both here now, and we have a wedding to plan. So enough of my weepiness, hmm? Let’s celebrate your return, and plan your wedding…we have much to discuss.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Much to Legolas’s dismay, Haldir had to go back to Lorien only a few weeks after their arrival in Mirkwood, though he promised to return as soon as he reported to Galadriel and took care of any business waiting for him there. He asked Legolas to begin planning their wedding, saying that he trusted the younger elf to come up with ideas they both liked. Thranduil had already revealed to them that he planned to sail for Valinor as soon as possible, and while Legolas hated the idea of his father leaving, he also knew it would be cruel to ask him to stay beyond what he could handle. Legolas and Haldir intended to have their wedding as quickly as possible, and the prospect of planning a nice wedding quickly weighed on Legolas’s mind.

     After a couple of months of discussions with his father and scribbling in journals that seemed to get him nowhere, Legolas finally tried to ask Thranduil about his own wedding. But the king evaded the questions whenever he could, and Legolas grew impatient. Finally, one day, after a particularly stressful breakfast together in which their conversation seemed to go in circles and Legolas despaired of being able to plan _anything_ meaningful for himself and Haldir, Thranduil mentioned that he had a book in his study that detailed the various old customs of Doriath, including the marriage customs practiced there. “It might not mean much to either of you since you never saw Doriath, but perhaps it will give you some ideas,” he told Legolas. “If you want to look at it, it’s a red book and I keep it on the top shelf in my study. You’re certainly welcome to go get it.” And that was why, just after breakfast on that particular morning, Legolas found himself in his father’s study.    

     He stretched, trying to reach the book his father had sent him to retrieve, and silently cursed that fact that he was a good hand’s breadth shorter than his father. It meant that Thranduil could put things just up out of his son’s reach, which normally wasn’t a problem. But of course the book he wanted was on the very top shelf, and of course it was just high enough that Legolas could brush his fingers against the bottom of its spine but couldn’t quite reach it. He sighed and stopped for a second, then worked his toe between a few piles of scrolls on one of the lower shelves, gripped a higher shelf with his left hand, and hoisted himself up. The good news was that this allowed him to grab the book he needed.

     The bad news was that his toe hold wasn’t as solid as he thought, and seconds later Legolas tumbled to the ground, taking a rather large portion of the bookshelf with him.

     He groaned and rolled over, then propped himself up on one arm to assess the damage. His father’s study, usually so neat and clean, was an absolute disaster. Books, scrolls, trinkets he hadn’t even known his father owned, all were scattered across the floor. The book he had been reaching for had landed near the door, but didn’t seem damaged. Legolas sighed and pushed himself onto his knees to start cleaning up the mess. He got a few books out of the way and stacked on his father’s desk to be put away later…and then noticed the box. It was hidden under several of the books, and it had fallen open, spilling its contents all over. Just letters, Legolas noted, but as he began collecting them, he also noticed that they seemed incredibly old and worn. A quick glance at the date on one revealed that it had been written sometime while his father lived in Lindon, and piqued the young elf’s interest. Thranduil rarely spoke of the time before he became King of Mirkwood, and Legolas only knew that his father had lived in Lindon because Galion had mentioned it once…only to be reprimand by Thranduil, now that he thought of it. Legolas unfolded the letter the rest of the way to look at the signature, curious about who could have exchanged letters with his father all those centuries ago, and was quite surprised to see Lord Elrond’s name. He folded the letter again and set it aside before collecting a few others and checking their signatures as well. All of them were from Elrond, and many were quite long. And…and rather personal. Intimate, really. Though he felt a twinge of guilt, Legolas took the time to skim a few of the letters, struggling to make the relationship they revealed match with what he knew of his father and Elrond. The letters seemed to reveal the most intense and passionate relationship Legolas had ever heard of two people having, which just didn’t fit with the bare-bones relationship Thranduil and Elrond had now. In fact, Legolas would be hard pressed to call what they had now a “relationship,” since it seemed to consist solely of the occasional message sent to share some important bit of information, and nothing else.

     Had his father ever even mentioned Elrond before today, except perhaps in passing? And Elrond hadn’t even asked Legolas for news of Thranduil when they had met in Imladris or at Aragorn’s coronation and wedding to Arwen…

     He found one letter, a long one, that made him turn absolutely red within the first few paragraphs. He shoved that letter back into the box without even making sure it was folded properly. The things described …had his father and Elrond really done that?

     “Legolas, did you get lost in…” Legolas turned to see his father standing in the doorway, looking around at the disaster that was his study with a look of mixed awe and horror. “…What happened in here?”

     “I ah…knocked some things over,” Legolas replied. Thranduil raised an eyebrow, and Legolas reach back to pick up one of the letters, which he held out to his father. “And um…I found these…”

     Thranduil frowned and stepped forward to take the letter. “What…oh…oh my…oh, Legolas…” He sank to his knees, robes billowing around him as he did, and unfolded the letter with great reverence before reading it. Legolas watched him and noticed that at some point, Thranduil’s eyes stopped following the lines of text and instead seemed to just be staring at the letter. And then, without warning, his face twisted as though he was in pain and the king doubled over, letter clutched tightly in his hand, and he let out a single low sob.

     “Ada!” Legolas grabbed his father’s shoulders and shook him a little, then hunched over him and tried to hug him. “Ada, what’s the matter?” The fact that Thranduil was crying unnerved him far more than anything else he had seen today, for the Thranduil he had grown up with never cried. In fact, the only other time he could remember his father crying was the day he returned from the quest to destroy the Ring. But those had been tears of joy. This? This was something completely different, and Legolas had no idea what to do.

     Thranduil finally seemed to gain enough control of himself to sit up again, though when he did he had to take a few deep gasps of air before he could say anything. “I-I’m sorry, Legolas,” he whispered. “It just hurts so much sometimes…”

     Legolas frowned and kept a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “What does?”

     Thranduil indicated the letter in his hand, and added, “I miss him _so much_ , and it’s been _so long_ , but I just can’t forget any of it.”

     “Elrond?” he asked softly, starting to play with a lock of his father’s hair. “You miss Lord Elrond?” Alright, well, this was something he could fix! He gave his father’s shoulder a firm squeeze and rose to his feet. “Well, we can send him a message and invite him here then. I’ll bring it myself if you want. I can escort him back.”

     “It is not so simple,” Thranduil replied, voice raspy from trying to control his emotions.

     “It’s not a short trip, true, but it’s straightforward enough and I imagine the road will be much safer now,” Legolas said. “I can be ready to leave within the hour.”

     Thranduil reached up and took Legolas’s wrist, gently tugging until his son knelt down beside him again. “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I…suppose it’s about time I told you…there’s no avoiding it now.” He sighed and sagged to the side. Legolas caught him and held him, rubbing soothing circles against his arm. Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Has anyone ever explain the ‘soul mates’ phenomenon to you?”

     Legolas had to think hard about that one. “…No, I don’t think so. But I know how it always feels when I’m with Haldir, and how it was that way for as long as I could remember… I mentioned it to Aragorn once. He said some people have a special connection, but you wouldn’t know without touching the person, or…something like that.”

     Thranduil nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It means your souls are connected in a way that can never be broken. The connection will always be there, even if you are fated to never meet that person, but if you do, and your connection becomes known, it will be the strongest bond you can ever share with a person.”

     Legolas let that sink in for a moment. “So…you and Lord Elrond?” Thranduil just nodded again. “But then…why aren’t you two together? You barely even seem to be acquaintances. What happened?”

     Thranduil sat up and opened his eyes, searching for his son’s gaze. For the first time, Legolas felt truly aware of all the things his father had lived through, all the things he had seen and experienced, all the centuries he had spent in Middle-Earth…all the darkness that had gathered in his heart over the centuries. “Because when your grandfather found out, he wouldn’t let it continue,” Thranduil told him. “I don’t believe he knew how deeply it went, how much Elrond and I truly loved each other. But I don’t think it would have mattered. He just thought it could never happen, and he forced us apart.” He closed his eyes again and sighed, tilting his head to the side a bit. Legolas tensed, thinking his father was about to fall again, but Thranduil remained upright. “We loved each other so much, and wanted to be together…I wanted him to come here someday, and rule beside me…I suppose it’s my fault too. I could have answered him after your grandfather died, and he wrote to me, but I just couldn’t bear to torment myself or him like that, and I knew we couldn’t be together…”

     “Why not, though?” Legolas asked.

     “It would have meant abandoning your mother. We were married before the battle that killed my father.”

     “Ah,” Legolas said, and he smiled warmly even though his father’s eyes were still closed. “So who did you love more, then, Elrond or Nana?”

     Thanduil’s eyes flew open, and Legolas actually leaned back to get away from the coldness he saw there. “I never loved your mother,” he said. “And she never loved me. It was an arranged and loveless marriage for both of us.”

     “But…you had me…”

     “Love isn’t required for reproduction,” Thranduil replied. He looked down, and slowly reached out to take Legolas’s hand. “There is no question of my love for you,” he whispered. “You are my treasure and my joy, and always have been. But your mother…she knew my heart belonged to another. And so did hers, really. But just as my father gave me no choice, her parents pushed her into the marriage as well.”

     Legolas bit his lip and rubbed his thumb over the back of Thranduil’s hand, feeling his father’s fingers tighten around his in response. “But none of them are here now,” he said. “Nor is Elrond’s wife…Surely there’s a way, now…”

     “I doubt he would have me back, after the way I treated him,” Thranduil said. “There is no forgiving my rudeness to him. Besides, from what I have heard over the years, he was happy with Celebrían. What right do I have to interfere now?” He sighed and shook his head. “I need to rest. Don’t worry about this mess, we can clean it up together later.” He glanced around, then reached for the box and began putting the rest of the letters back in it. “I think I’ll take this, though,” he said. When he finished replacing the letters, Legolas helped him back to his feet and he wandered out of the study, back to his room to rest.


	35. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, I'm going out of town for a couple of days to visit a hospitalized relative, so my update schedule might be a little wonky. Hopefully it will be back to normal by Monday!

     “You,” Legolas’s angry voice seemed to echo through the wine cellar. Galion and the other servants who had been busy counting wine barrels and bottles all paused and turned to see what was going on. Legolas stormed in, marching straight up to Galion until their faces were mere inches apart, and it was only the butler’s long experience Oropher and Thranduil when they were angry that allowed him to continue meeting Legolas’s fiery glare.

     “Can I help you, Legolas?” he asked, carefully maintaining his composure.

     “How long did you know?” the prince demanded. His reward was a confused frown.

     “Know what?” Galion asked. After all, there were many things he knew, most of them for a long time, and some of them he had never told Legolas.

     Legolas, for his part, huffed in irritation and whirled away from Galion, pacing about the cellar. “About my father and…and Lord Elrond,” he finally said.

     “…Ah,” Galion said, and the deep sadness in his voice brought Legolas up short. Galion set his papers down and motioned for one servant to bring him some glasses, then said. “The rest of you should leave now. We can finish this later.” As the other servants and guards left, Galion selected a wine from their stores and pulled the stopper from the bottle. He filled the two glasses and offered one to Legolas.

     “I don’t want any,” The prince growled.

     “Take it anyway,” Galion said. “You’ll want it by the end, trust me.” He sat down at the table the servants used for their meals and motioned for Legolas to do the same, waiting until the prince was seated (rather stiffly) before continuing. “Now, where to start _this_ sorry tale…”

     “You could start by answering my question,” Legolas replied coldly.

     Galion nodded. “As good a point as any. I have known since the beginning. Not the very moment it began, of course, but within a few days of it at least. And of course I knew your father long before then, since I was raised to be in his service.” Galion paused for a sip of wine, which only irritated Legolas, but he ignored that and moved on. “I presume you wish to know what happened between them?”

     “Yes.”

     “Very well. I think for that, we need to start in Doriath. Your father grew up there and came to adulthood there, as did I. He was a child when Menegroth was destroyed, so he has memories of that. And when war came later, he fought, and almost died. His mother _did_ die. You are familiar with his dragonfire scar, I presume?” Legolas nodded stiffly. He had only caught a glimpse of it once, as a young elfling, but the image had never left his memory. “After that, and after he recovered – physically, at least, I don’t think the emotional scars from that have ever healed – your grandfather felt that they needed a change in scenery. He was also beginning to be impatient with the fact that, despite being well into adulthood, your father had as yet failed to marry and produce an heir. So he moved the household to Gil-galad’s court in Lindon.” Galion sighed a little. “Has he ever spoken to you of Lindon?”

     “No,” Legolas replied. “Though I remember he was angry when you mentioned it once. He speaks of Doriath more, but even that is rare.”

     Galion simply nodded. “Lindon was like a dream come true for your grandfather. Safe, for the most part, and beautiful. Full of gorgeous young ellith, from which he fully expected your father to pick his future wife. Plenty of food and wine and merriment all around, really. Lots and lots of parties, many of them hosted by your father himself, and he became quite the legendary host.” He paused for another sip of wine. “Within days of their arrival in Lindon, your father was being treated like a golden prince, though he was nothing but the child of a lord. But what he lacked in rank he more than made up for with his beauty. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted to be in his presence. And Oropher encouraged it. He and his wife had always encouraged Thranduil to care for his appearance, but at the court of Lindon, seeing the sort of reaction people had to Thranduil’s looks, Oropher encouraged it even more. He absolutely showered your father in the finest luxuries – clothes, jewels, the finest of soaps and oils, everything imaginable. If he thought it would keep his son in the spotlight, he would provide it, no matter the cost to himself.”

     “Just get to Elrond already,” Legolas groused.

     “I’m getting there, young one, have some patience,” Galion said, reaching out to pat Legolas’s arm. “I’m trying to tell you a story that spans thousands of years.” Legolas fell silent again, though Galion could see some of the irritation drain from his face. He waited for a moment to make sure the prince had no other comments, then continued, “By the time Lord Elrond came to Doriath to be groomed as Gil-galad’s herald, no party was considered complete without the beautiful Thranduil’s presence. For my part, I became something of a glorified courier, carting letters and trinkets from his admirers to him…and there lies a part of the problem. You see, Oropher was delighted that your father had so many admirers, even if many were other ellyn. But your father didn’t care for it much. People asked odd and inappropriate things of him. They made it clear that his most important attribute was his beauty – and since your father knew that beauty could be easily lost, he was often angry about that. People wanted to be his bed partner and little else. He didn’t want that…he would often tell his father that when he married, he wanted it to be for love, and that he wanted his child to be a product of love. But Oropher had a more…practical view of the matter. ‘Love isn’t needed for reproduction,’ he would say, ‘you just need to plant your seed in the right receptacle.’”

     “That’s disgusting, I can’t believe he would say that!” Legolas gasped.

     “You never knew your grandfather,” Galion replied. “This was his view and he saw nothing wrong with it. But surely now you can begin to see how he might have had a problem with your father and Lord Elrond being involved.”

     It took Legolas a moment, but then he nodded slowly. “Lord Elrond is hardly…er…well, they couldn’t have had a child.”

   “Precisely. To be frank, I don’t think your grandfather thought much of Elrond either. Your grandfather chaffed under Gil-galad’s command and wanted to rule in his own right. Elrond had no such desires. I believe Oropher saw that as a weakness. He didn’t particularly care for the fact that Elrond is half-elven. And he certainly wouldn’t have thought Elrond attractive enough to be on your father’s arm.”

     “But Lord Elrond is a –“

     “Wise leader? Excellent healer? Kind and caring and compassionate elf?” Galion interrupted. Legolas just nodded. “Well of course he is. And was, even then, though perhaps not as much as now. But your grandfather’s main concern was your father’s ability to produce an heir with a suitable partner and that was never going to happen with Elrond, no matter how wise or skilled he was. I think, had Elrond been an elleth, your grandfather could have been convinced to accept the match, even if it wasn’t his ideal choice.”

     Legolas finally took a sip of wine. “I found their letters,” he said. “They were involved for a long time. Didn’t my grandfather know?”

     “No. Not for…goodness, they kept it quiet around him for centuries. Eventually they both left Lindon, but of course they remained in touch, which surprised nobody who knew that they had met and become friends. But few, if any, outside of Thranduil, Elrond, and myself knew the true extent of their relationship. I think Gil-galad might have known. At the very least he would have been aware that they knew each other quite well, and that on at least one occasion Elrond gave your father a ring. But Oropher never seemed to suspect…until, like you, he discovered a letter.”

     “Why didn’t Ada ever tell him?”

     Galion fixed him with a rather pointed look. “You hesitated to tell your father about Haldir. I think you know the answer already. And remember that your father was _very_ aware of Oropher’s desires concerning an heir and his attitude towards Elrond. He knew Oropher would never approve. And so, he kept it quiet…I don’t know how long he thought it could last, or when he thought the ‘right time’ would be to tell Oropher. But the discovery of the letter was…devastating. Until that point Elrond had been a welcomed guest in Amon Lanc, at least to a point. Oropher let him visit but never let him stay long. But once he found the letter, Elrond was no longer welcome. Within days, Oropher had chosen an elleth for your father and had arranged the marriage. He ordered all of us to bring every piece of correspondence that was entering or leaving Mirkwood to him first, and any letters that seemed to be anything but business correspondence to or from Elrond were destroyed. Thranduil was never allowed to write to him again, for any reason. And then your grandfather died, but by then Thranduil was married and trying to get you, and though he and your mother didn’t love one another they also took their marriage bond seriously, at least for a time.” He sighed. “Elrond tried one more time to write to your father. He sent a letter after your grandfather’s death. But Thranduil never replied. It was too painful for him, he said. And…now here we are. The two haven’t even seen each other in centuries. They haven’t communicated beyond that which is required of their positions, and in many cases I am actually the one dealing with Elrond’s notes. Your father seems to think that ignoring the problem will make it hurt less, but of course that doesn’t really help. They are soul mates…only they can really provide what the other needs.”

     It was a lot for Legolas to take in. For the longest time he just sat there, sipping his wine (suddenly he was grateful Galion had insisted on it) and trying to figure out what to do. It pained him to see his father so hurt, and for his part he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to be so completely _alone_ for all those centuries. For him, it was hard enough being away from Haldir for a few weeks or months. That time in his youth, when Haldir had skipped his summer visit, had been the worst of his life. But centuries? It was unthinkable to him.

     Suddenly, so many things about his father made so much more sense.

     “I need to go to Imladris,” he finally said.

     Galion nearly choked on his wine. “You can’t be serious.”

   “I am serious. Something needs to be done to fix this! I just…Ada thinks Elrond will be angry and unwilling to even _try_ again, and…I need to know if that’s true or not. And if it isn’t, maybe there is some hope.”

     “You father will be angry if he finds out,” Galion said.

     “Yes, well, we’ve seen how worrying about our fathers being angry at us has turned out in this family, haven’t we?” Legolas replied. His eyes were filled with determination, and Galion couldn’t help but agree that he had a point.

     The butler emptied his glass and set it aside. “Alright, then. But you had better come up with a good excuse for your trip. Your father will wonder why you want to go to Imladis when you barely know anyone there, and I’m not so good at making up stories as I used to be.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Adar?” Elladan’s voice called from the library’s entrance. “You have a visitor.”

     “A visitor?” Elrond repeated. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and had been so deeply involved in his latest bit of research that he hadn’t even heard the horns that normally announced guests. “Who is it?” he asked, finally stepping out of the stacks and making his way towards the library’s main entrance. When he got his first look at his visitor, his breath caught in his throat and he thought his heart would leap right out of his chest. A tall elf, with soft blond hair… _Thranduil_? But a closer look put that thought to rest. The elf wasn’t tall enough, his hair wasn’t the right shade of blond, and he wore braids in it…but he was accompanied by aides bearing the colors of Mirkwood. Thranduil’s son, then.

     “Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood,” he said gravely, hoping that his voice betrayed none of the shock he had felt upon first seeing the younger elf. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I do hope we are meeting under better circumstances than those of your last time here…”

     “I am not here on a world-changing quest, if that’s what you mean, Lord Elrond,” Legolas replied. “But I have come to speak with you about a matter that is quite…sensitive. Is there someplace more private where we might speak?”

     Elrond nodded and motioned for Legolas to follow him. “My study should suffice. Elladan, see that some food is brought. It is late in the day and I’m sure Legolas could use something good to eat after his long journey. And have Lindir see to the preparation of rooms for our guests.” Elladan simply nodded and went to do his father’s bidding, while Legolas and one of his travelling companions (bearing a rather large box) followed Elrond. When they reached the study, Legolas turned and took the box the other elf carried. As the other left, Legolas turned back to Elrond and nodded to the box he now carried.

     “I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to bring a gift,” he said.

     Elrond helped him situate the box on his desk. “No, though this seems like a very large gift,” he said. Legolas just laughed and helped him remove the box top, revealing three perfect bottles of deep red Dorwinion wine nestled inside on a protective bed of hay.

     “Three of the best bottles from our stores,” Legolas explained. “I hope they are to your liking.”

     Elrond’s heart ached as he looked at the bottles, remembering Thranduil and his enjoyment of good wine. But he tried not to show the ache he felt as he smiled at his old love’s son and picked the middle bottle out of the basket. “I do enjoy a good wine,” he said. “Will you drink some with me?” Legolas nodded, though he didn’t have time to answer verbally before two servants bearing their dinner arrived. Elrond told them to set the food on the table he had in his study, then motioned for Legolas to join him there as he poured a glass of wine for each of them. The two sat in their chairs, across the table from one another, and clinked their glasses together in a friendly toast before trying the first sip. “Mm. Delicious,” Elrond declared, holding his glass up to the light so he could admire the color. “A perfect specimen of Dorwinion if ever there was one. Now then, Legolas, what brings you to Imladris with three bottles of wine if not a world-changing quest?”

     Legolas chose to eat a few bites of dinner first. He had no idea how Elrond would react, after all, and thought it best to get some food down while he had the chance. He had eaten lembas for most of the trip and was already sick of it. “Well, my lord – “

     “There’s no need for a title, Legolas, just ‘Elrond’ will do.”

     “Alright then. Well, Elrond, I’m actually here about my father.”

     Elrond studied Legolas for a moment, noting that the younger elf was barely looking up from his food, and was shoveling it into his mouth in a way that bordered on improper. “What about your father?” he finally asked. “If the Elvenking wants something from me he certainly knows well enough how to write and ask for it himself.”

     Legolas finally looked up and met Elrond’s eyes. They were cold, almost completely devoid of emotion, and he wondered what his father had ever seen there. “Not this, he doesn’t, I’m afraid. I think he lost the ability to ask for what I have in mind after my grandfather died, or perhaps even before.”

     _Just what are you playing at, Legolas?_ Elrond scowled at him. “Speak plainly.”

     Legolas sighed as he saw his last chance for subtlety slipping away. “Elrond…my father never told me what happened between you. He never really spoke of you for centuries, and when I was finally allowed to go anywhere by myself I chose to visit Lothlorien, not Imladris. But recently I discovered your…previous correspondence from your younger days, quite by accident I assure you, and he finally told me what happened.”

     “Then I assume you are aware that the last one to try keeping communications open was me,” Elrond said.

     “And I am equally sure you are aware that it was a difficult time for my father and he may very well have not been thinking so clearly,” Legolas said. Elrond just cocked an eyebrow at him. “His father had just died, he was in a loveless marriage and still trying to produce an heir, he had already been separate from you for so long…You are a wise and intelligent man, Elrond, but you cannot tell me that such things would not have clouded your judgment in _some_ way. And by the time he realized his mistake, he felt it was too late. It would have hurt to write, so he didn’t, and then he lost his chance.”

     Elrond sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know Legolas very well, couldn’t figure out what the young elf’s motives were in coming to him, and had no reason to believe that he had any way of understanding the situation. And yet…he was here anyway, fighting on behalf of his father. Didn’t he at least deserve some consideration, then?

   Wasn’t this something Thranduil himself would have done in his younger days?

     “Legolas…” he finally said. “I…appreciate your desire to help your father, I truly do.” Legolas seemed to perk up a little, and Elrond raised a hand to calm him. “But it has been centuries. Literally, your entire life, and then some, has gone by with no personal contact between us. I haven’t even _seen_ him in all that time. Pray tell, young prince, what makes you think he would even welcome something less than business-like from me?”

     Legolas tilted his head a little, and Elrond was struck by just how like Thranduil he seemed in that moment. “I have seen my father cry twice, that I can remember. Once when I returned from the quest to destroy the One Ring, and again when I discovered your letters and he finally told me about you.” Legolas reached out rather suddenly and gripped Elrond’s hand in both of his own before the older elf could react. “He _misses you_ , I truly believe that, and while it won’t be easy to reconnect with him, surely it’s worth trying.”

     Elrond sighed again and tried to pull his hand away. “I’m not sure you have any way to appreciate just how difficult our separation has been, young one.”

   “Don’t I?” Legolas asked, and finally dropped Elrond’s hand, though he continued holding his right hand where the brown-haired elf lord could see it.

     Elrond frowned and glanced down…and for the first time noticed the fine silver band. “What is this?” he asked, gently taking Legolas’s hand and raising it closer to his face. “You are engaged?”

     “Since we stopped to rest in Lorien during the quest,” Legolas said. “Well…longer, really, I suppose…my soul mate asked me before I came to Imladris, before the quest began.” At Elrond’s surprised look, he continued, “I know it’s not centuries, but when his parents died we were kept apart for a year, and I missed him terribly then. And of course we were separated for most of the quest. I know the pain of being apart from him…and I can only imagine what centuries of it must do to one’s heart and soul…”

     “Then surely you can understand how I might be disinclined to be further torn apart when your father rejects my attempt at reconciliation,” Elrond replied.

     “I can,” Legolas said, “but I also don’t think it will ever come to that. He still loves you. I know he does.” They fell into silence and Legolas pulled his hand away so he could eat a little more, but when Elrond hadn’t spoken by the time he finished eat, he said, “I have no wish to rush you but I cannot stay for long, either. The Feast of Starlight is coming soon and I would like to be home for it…if I leave in three days, will that give you enough time to think, and not take too much advantage of your hospitality?”

   Elrond nodded. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home here, Legolas. I…will let you know my decision as soon as I can.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Has he said anything to you, yet?” Legolas asked the elf who came to give him some supplies.

     Lindir shook his head and helped Legolas finish strapping supplies onto his horse. “I am afraid not,” he said. “Should I go tell him you are preparing to leave? Even if he has no message for you to bring back, he would wish to see his guest off.”

     “No need for that,” Elrond’s voice interrupted, and Lindir and Legolas both looked up to see the lord of Imladris approaching, dressed in travelling clothes and leading his own horse. “I’ll be accompanying you back to Mirkwood,” he added.

     “My lord…” Lindir said, sounding just a touch confused.

     “Are you sure you want to do this?” Legolas asked. “I can make you no promises of what you will find there.”

     Elrond simply nodded as he mounted his horse. “You of all people know how letters have failed us, Legolas,” he said. “I will take my chances with an in-person meeting.” To Lindir, he added, “Glorfindel will be in charge while I’m away.”

     “When will you be back?” Lindir asked.

     “…I wish I could tell you,” Elrond said. “If it will be too long, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

     Elrond, Legolas, and those who had come with the young prince trotted out of Imladris without further comment. Lindir watched them go, barely noticing when Elladan and Elrohir joined him.

     “Did Ada say _why_ he’s going?” Elrohir asked.

     Elladan shrugged. “He said something about seeing the King of Mirkwood.”

   “…But why?” Elrohir asked. “He’s never even mentioned this person before and all of a sudden he has to go visit?”

     Lindir shook his head. “I gave up trying to understand your father long ago, you two,” he said. “I only hope this will be a good thing for him. And for us.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the Elvenking’s halls, and even from across the river they could easily hear the sounds of the party within. The guards at the gates greeted them cheerfully and let them pass, with Legolas only pausing long enough to instruct them not to pass on word of Elrond’s arrival. A steward came to take their horses away, and finally Legolas could lead his party into the celebration.

     “My father is probably there, but I doubt you want to confront him in front of a crowd,” he said to Elrond as they made their way through the twisting paths.

     “You’re probably right,” Elrond said. “But I want to see him. I can find a spot to watch from, and speak with him later.”

     Legolas simply nodded and led him into a large hall, where most of the party was taking place, and looked around for a sign of his father. “He must be here, they’ve served dinner…ah. There he is.” He pointed towards a distant point in the room, where Thranduil sat. “You should try to keep your distance and stay behind the pillars if you don’t want him to see you just yet…ah.” He smiled and turned to clap Elrond on the shoulder. “Can you take care of yourself for a time? Haldir is here and I wish to speak with him.”

     Elrond smiled back and nodded. “Go on, Legolas, enjoy yourself. I’ll be quite fine for the time being.” He ducked behind a pillar and watched as Legolas dashed off into the crowd. One of the elves with Haldir alerted him to Legolas’s presence, and he turned around just in time to scoop Legolas up in a hug so tight that he swept the Mirkwood elf right off his feet. They both laughed and beamed at each other, and as Haldir finally put Legolas down they shared a deep and passionate kiss. Elrond couldn’t help but feel pleased for them, and watching their sheer joy at seeing each other filled his heart with warmth like he hadn’t felt in a long time. With Legolas and Haldir occupied, Elrond took the opportunity to look around and find a new spot, closer to Thranduil, where he could hide and observe, and he carefully picked his way there.

     Once safely behind his new pillar, he accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant (thankfully she didn’t seem to know who he was) and turned his attention to observing Thranduil. The sight absolutely broke his heart, and it was only remembering that Legolas himself had cautioned him about making his presence known that stopped him from rushing to Thranduil and gathering the Elvenking in his arms. He was even more gorgeous than Elrond remembered, his skin still pale and perfect, hair the same silvery-gold (but longer than before), eyes still a lovely blue. But Thranduil was sitting by himself, sipping wine and picking at food that a steady stream of unobtrusive servants kept refreshing and refilling for him. Thranduil barely seemed to notice them, and though his eyes were turned towards the crowd, he didn’t seem to be actually looking at or seeing any of the revelers. Rather, his eyes were dull and unfocused, and even from this distance Elrond could see the way that centuries of sorrow and pain were taking their toll on him. Even the way he sat in his throne-like seat, sagged to the side and leaning heavily on one arm, showed how worn-down he was. Every so often someone would approach him to bow and say something, and in those moments there was a change in his attitude – where he had been sagging listlessly before, his posture now seemed more sassy, and his took on a haughty and unconcerned expression, but the moment his surprise visitor left he went right back to his normal, sad posture. The only other change in his expression came when Legolas and Haldir went to greet him. Thranduil’s eyes lit up and he sat up straighter, holding out his arms to the two younger elves, who swooped in and kissed him on his cheeks before standing up again. They stayed with him for a while, talking about things Elrond couldn’t hear, and then Thranduil shooed them back to the party. He watched them for several more minutes, smiling fondly at them the whole time, though his smile gradually faded the longer he watched them. Finally, he pushed himself out of his chair and left. Nobody except Elrond seemed to notice him go, and though he wasn’t sure it was a god idea, Elrond stepped out from behind his pillar to follow Thranduil.

     The deeper they went into the cavernous halls, the more Elrond began to regret his choice to follow Thranduil. While the blond elf clearly knew his way around, Elrond had no idea where they were going, and it wasn’t long before he lost track of where they had been either. If Thranduil decided to be upset, there would be no escape for Elrond unless someone came to find him…and since only Legolas knew he was here…and Thranduil had always been good at finding places to hide that nobody else knew about…

     But finally (and much to his relief) they came out into a small room with a pool, and one wall that opened to reveal a view of some of the rivers and mossy rocks that filled the halls. Thranduil removed his crown and set it on a table that was otherwise empty except for a pair of wine glasses and a half-full decanter of wine, then shrugged out of his robe and tossed it over the arms of the nearest chair. For a horrible moment, Elrond thought that perhaps the pool was actually deep enough for swimming or bathing and that Thranduil intended to do one or the other, but no more clothing or jewelry came off. The Elvenking simply found a convenient carved pillar and sank down beside it, leaning back against it and resting his head in the crook between some of the ornate carvings. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, then seemed to relax a little. After several minutes in which Elrond began to wonder if Thranduil had fallen asleep, the blond elf opened his eyes again and tilted his head to look at the view through the open wall.

     Elrond couldn’t take it anymore. Caution be damned, he had to speak to Thranduil, had to do something about the pain and sorrow in his love’s eyes…had to do something about the ache that had been growing in his own heart ever since Legolas had come for him. So he stepped out of the shadows and into the room and said, quite simply, “Thranduil.”

     At first, he thought Thanduil hadn’t heard. Then he thought Thanduil was ignoring him. He took a step closer, and then the blond head finally turned and he found himself caught in the piercing blue gaze for the first time in centuries. Elrond stopped dead, a shiver working its way up his spine. Thranduil’s gaze was cold and suspicious, and he kept that gaze fixed on Elrond as he slowly climbed to his feet.

     “You,” he said. “Is it truly you, or do I dream?”

     “This is no dream,” Elrond said. “I am truly here.”

     They stared at each other in silence, Elrond doing his best to look calm and friendly, and Thranduil becoming more and more agitated. “Why have you come?” he finally demanded. “I didn’t send for you.”

     “I thought it was about time we tried to patch things up,” Elrond said. Thranduil’s anger made him feel that he should leave Legolas out of it, at least for the time being. “I have missed you, Thranduil, and it seems like such a shame to give up what we once had…I thought you would be pleased to see me.” He took a few steps towards Thranduil and raised his hand as though to touch the blond elf.

     Thranduil, for his part, deftly side-stepped Elrond’s advances, which put him between his surprise visitor and the only exit. Elrond went tense – what if an angry, drunk Thranduil was prone to violence? Elrond now had no way to escape – but Thranduil didn’t approach Elrond. In fact, some of the anger left his face, to be replaced by fear and sorrow. “You thought wrong,” he finally said, voice cracking with the strain of keeping his emotions in check. “You thought wrong.” He took a few steps back towards the door, his eyes fixed on Elrond, then turned and fled into the depths of his stronghold.

     Elrond remained in the pool room, struggling to figure out what to do now. It seemed that Legolas had been wrong about his father. Maybe he should just leave… yes, perhaps he could stay for the night, and then be gone in the morning before Thranduil woke, and they could put this whole thing behind them. Legolas might even be able to convince Thranduil that Elrond’s appearance had been a dream. But first, of course, Elrond had to find his way out of the caverns. He moved to the door, but froze when he heard footsteps. It sounded like more than one person. Had Thranduil summoned guards? But then, as Elrond took a few steps back and began trying to assess his chances of convincing the guards not to imprison him, Legolas and Haldir appeared, and Elrond relaxed.

     “I take it your first meeting didn’t go so well,” Legolas said. He looked terribly apologetic, his brow creased in a small frown and (when he wasn’t speaking) his lips pursed.

     “You could say that,” Elrond replied. “He said I was mistaken to come here.”

     “It’s the wine talking,” Haldir said. “The wine and the shadows.”

     Legolas nodded in agreement. “I should have suggested that you wait until morning to see him…he’s usually better in the morning. And you could have joined us for breakfast, so he would have had me and Haldir there as well.”

     Elrond sighed. “I don’t think he would want to see me then either.”

     Legolas and Haldir exchanged a nervous look, then Legolas closed the distance between himself and Elrond and gripped the older elf’s hands in his own. “Please, Elrond, stay,” he said. “Give it time. It’s been so long and so much has happened and I can only imagine that seeing you again after all this time is stressful for him…he doesn’t take stress well these days. He has spoken of going to Valinor soon.”

     “I see…” Elrond nodded. “Then I will stay, for a time. But surely you understand, there can be no guarantees of this working out.”

     “Of course,” Legolas said. “And thank you. Come, I’ll have someone make up a room for you.”


	36. Chapter 32

     Elrond wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in his room when he woke up, so when he regained consciousness to find a pair of dark eyes staring down at him, he jumped and nearly bashed his face into his guest’s. But his visitor had quick reflexes and managed to jerk back before Elrond could do any serious damage. The two just stared at each other for a moment, Elrond struggling to get his heart back under control, and finally he realized who it was.

     “I must say, at first I didn’t believe Thranduil when he showed up in his room, ranting that you were here,” Galion said. “I thought he had finally gone mad, or at least that he was particularly drunk. I wasn’t even sure I believed Legolas when he told me he had returned with you. But then I came in here and sure enough, there you were, sound asleep, and I have to say I don’t know what to make of this.”

     “It’s good to see you too, Galion,” Elrond said. He sat up and winced a little – he had pulled his neck while reacting to the other elf’s unexpected presence. “Thranduil can’t say the same about me, I’m afraid.”

     Galion just watched Elrond silently for a moment, and his gaze unnerved the lord of Imladris. There was something chilly and sad in Galion’s eyes now, where once there had only been warmth and laughter. “It has been difficult for him here,” he finally said. “First he had to survive with his father, then there was his arranged marriage, then the whole debacle with the Last Alliance, then his wife left and he had to raise Legolas alone…he withdrew more and more with each passing year. And through it all he missed you terribly. I know. I’m the only one he ever talked to about it.”

     “Is it true what Legolas said?” Elrond asked as he finally climbed out of bed and set about finding some clothes for the day. Galion stood too and went to assist Elrond. “About him thinking it would be too painful to write?”

     “Oh yes,” Galion said. “He told me I could answer you, if I wanted, but…” He sighed. “Maybe I should have, but I thought it would hurt Thranduil more if he found out we were writing to each other and I couldn’t do that to him.”

     Elrond motioned for Galion to wait for him and disappeared into his bathroom to take care of the more private aspects of his morning routine. He emerged several minutes later, drying his hands and face on a soft towel. “He seemed very depressed at the party last night.”

     Galion nodded. “He was. And he was drunk, too. He always relied on the wine a little too much for my taste, but it was especially bad with Legolas gone. You could see it in his eyes every night, how he just wouldn’t be able to continue on if Legolas died in the quest.”

     “He…doesn’t think I forced Legolas to go, does he?”

     “Oh no, of course not,” Galion said, waving Elrond’s concern away. “No, he always knew Legolas would do what he felt was right, regardless of the danger to himself. I mean, we didn’t know there would be a quest when we saw him off, but in the end it didn’t surprise us and I think Thranduil is proud of what his son did. But it frightened him too.”

     Elrond nodded and sighed a bit, then sat down to brush and re-braid his hair. A servant knocked on the door and Galion went to let her in. She came just long enough to set a tray with Elrond’s breakfast on a table by the door, then bowed to him and disappeared. “Galion…am I wasting my time here?”

     Galion grabbed one of the chairs from beside the table and set it near Elrond, so he could see the other’s face in the mirror as they talked. “I wish I could tell you,” he said. “Thranduil was less than pleased about your presence, but that may have been the wine talking. I haven’t spoken with him yet today. Perhaps things will seem different to him after a good breakfast and a chance to really think about things.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “I think you should at least speak with him once,” Legolas said.

     Thranduil was pacing around his son’s room like an animal prowling for prey. In any other situation, Legolas would have been pleased to see his father so full of energy. Thranduil’s physical stamina had decreased as his spirits had flagged, and it was nice to see him up and moving about like this. But Legolas would have preferred for his father to pace about his _own_ room like this, and to have been allowed to sleep in a little more. Not to mention that he and Haldir were completely naked under their blankets and had barely managed to cover themselves when Thranduil had stormed in.

     “But there is no point in it,” Thranduil insisted. “He would have come before now if he wanted to…”

     Legolas sighed and sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. He felt Haldir’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his bare back. “Ada, please. He _did_ come all this way. Maybe he should have come before, maybe he should never have come at all, I don’t know. But he’s _here_. Do you really want to throw that opportunity away?”

     Thranduil huffed and practically fell onto the edge of the bed in front of Legolas so that he was more eye-level with his son. “Legolas, why did you do this? Why couldn’t you just let the past be the past?”

     Legolas reached out and took his father’s hand. “Because I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been in all these years, and I thought I could make it better,” he said. “I’m sorry if I’ve only made it worse…but I think that has yet to be seen.”

     They all looked up as the door opened and Galion poked his head in. “Ah, there you are,” he said to Thranduil. Haldir grumbled and pulled the blanket up higher over his chest, but Galion ignored him. “I was wondering where you went.”

     “Where have you been?” Thranduil asked.

     “I wanted to see if Elrond was really here,” Galion said. He ignored the glares Thranduil and Legolas sent him. “And of course, he is. He’s in his room dressing right now, and then he wants to talk to you.”

     Thranduil turned his gaze away from Galion. “But I don’t know if I want to see him.”

     Galion snorted. “You do,” he said. “Maybe your head doesn’t want to but your heart and soul sure do.”

   “He has a point,” Haldir said. “Even if I argue with Legolas and I think I want to be alone, sooner or later my heart tells me to go to him again.”

   “This is a bit different,” Thranduil said.

     “Yes, your heart has been telling you this for centuries instead of minutes or hours,” Galion said. Thranduil seemed to wilt a little. “Just a short meeting,” Galion urged. “You don’t have to do anything. Just talk to him a little. Get things started. Say your piece and let him say his. What’s the worst that can happen? Seems to me like, if this doesn’t work, you just go back to the way you were, but if it _does_ work…”

     Thranduil sighed. “If I talk to him, will you three leave me alone about it for the rest of the day?” His companions nodded, and he pushed himself off of Legolas’s bed. “Fine then. I’ll see him in my study.” And with that, he swept out, pulling Galion along with him.

     Legolas turned to look at Haldir and shook his head a little. “This isn’t going the way I thought it would.”

     “Indeed,” Haldir said. “And we need to start locking the door, it seems.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Galion ushered Elrond into Thranduil’s study with a quick pat on the back and a whisper of “Good luck.” Elrond simply nodded to him and stepped into the study. He heard the quiet click of the door behind him and took a moment to look around the room. It was spacious and well-appointed, with one wall covered in bookshelves and the other walls covered in maps, tapestries, decorative weapons, and various other decorations. A large fireplace sat to Elrond’s right, with comfortable chairs in front of it, and just in front of him sat Thranduil’s desk and its accompanying chairs. And there, standing in front of his desk with his back to the door, was Thranduil.

    He didn’t turn around as he spoke to Elrond, and his voice was carefully neutral. “I trust you slept well,” he said.

     Elrond nodded, then remembered that Thranduil couldn’t see him. “I did,” he replied. “This place is…it’s amazing, Thranduil. Based on Menegroth, I believe?”

     Thranduil finally turned to look at him, and his face was cold and blank. “Yes. I’m surprised you noticed, since you were never there.”

     “Menegroth’s halls are legendary,” Elrond said. “But we’re not really here to talk about architecture.”

     “No…” Thranduil replied. He began prowling around the room, though he didn’t approach Elrond at all. “Tell me, Elrond. Galion and Legolas would have me believe that your being here means something, but how could it?”

     Elrond frowned a little. “What do you mean, how could it? Of course it means something…I came to see you.”

     “But why? Because you finally have the time?”

     “Time has nothing to do with it,” Elrond said. “I thought you had no desire to see me.” He hesitated, then added, “After all, you could have come to see me, if you had wished.”

     Thranduil snorted. “How? My father would have never allowed it.”

   Elrond tilted his head a little. “But he died so long ago, Thranduil…” he said, trying to sound as gentle as he could.

     Thranduil scowled at him. “Yes. Now tell me, how would it have looked to your lovely Celebrían if I had appeared in Imladris, looking to rekindle our romance?”

     “…Is this about that?” Elrond asked. “About me marrying Celebrían?”

     “But of course,” Thranduil said. “How could I come to you and interrupt your happy marriage like that?”

     “Oh Thranduil,” Elrond said. He reached out his hand and took a step forward, but that just made Thranduil tense and retreat towards his bookshelves, so Elrond stopped. “Yes, Thranduil, I married her, but that never changed how I felt about you. Nothing did.”  
     “Really?” Thranduil asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you still loved me then why did you choose to marry her?”

     Elrond sighed. “You were married,” he said. “And I was terribly lonely. Celebrían offered…I never loved her as I loved you but neither did I dislike her. I enjoyed her company…and I felt that, if I couldn’t have my dream of being with you, then perhaps I could have my dream of being a father.”

     “I am so pleased to learn that I was so easily replaced,” Thranduil said, the bitterness clear in his voice.

     Now Elrond scowled. “Valar, Thranduil! You can be so _difficult_. It had nothing to do with replacing you. You are irreplaceable to me! It was about me trying to make the best of an impossible situation!”

     “And all the while I was trapped here, alone, locked in a loveless marriage, forced to be a king before my time, and then forced to raise my child on my own and hope to all the Valar that I wouldn’t be like my father.” Thranduil snorted. “Where was my chance to make the best of it?” He didn’t allow Elrond to answer, though. “Just…get out of my study, Elrond. Get out. I didn’t ask you here. I didn’t send for you. And I can’t fathom why you have come at all.” He flopped down in the chair behind his desk, sagging forward to lean against it. Elrond stepped closer, his every instinct telling him to help Thranduil, but he had only made it a few steps when the blond elf raised his head. “ _I said GET OUT_!” Elrond gasped and stumbled back, and for a moment it wasn’t Thranduil he saw there, but Oropher. But he didn’t say anything about it, and Thranduil’s shout had overridden his desire to help. Instead, he fled from the room.

    In his haste to leave the study, he very nearly bowled Galion over, and it was only Haldir’s quick reflexes that saved the butler from falling. Legolas quickly shut the study door before Thranduil could notice what was going on in the hall, then he grabbed Elrond’s arm and hustled him off to another room, Haldir and Galion on their heels.

     “You were listening?” Elrond asked.

     “We were,” Legolas admitted. “We planned to leave if things took a turn for the…well, you know…” his cheeks turned pink, and Elrond’s heart ached at how much the young elf seemed like Thranduil in that moment – or at least, how much he seemed like the Thranduil Elrond remembered. “I wasn’t expecting him to be so angry.”

     “But this is good,” Haldir said. The other three elves gave him incredulous looks. “No, listen. Now we know more about how he feels and why this is upsetting for him. It’s not just about the time. It’s about what Elrond was doing while they were apart. We can work with that. Can’t we?”

     Galion nodded slowly. “It’s possible…the floodgates have been opened. I don’t think much of what he is saying is planned now. I think he’s just venting. And once the venting is over, the true work can begin.”

     “I’m not going to go back in there to be shouted at again,” Elrond said flatly.

     “And I don’t expect you to,” Galion said. “Leave the next step to us. We’ve been with him during all these past centuries. If you’re still willing to try, we can help.”

     Elrond hesitated. Was he still willing to try? Thranduil wasn’t the same anymore, and neither was Elrond himself. Perhaps it was for the best to just let it go, and for both of them to move on. But even as he thought it, his heart rebelled, and he felt utterly sick to his stomach at the mere thought of finally giving up on Thranduil. They were soul mates. There would never be any true moving on…and even if they decided they couldn’t be romantically involved anymore, it just wasn’t right to end everything on such a sour note. At the very least, it was worth trying to end things on cordial terms.

     “Yes,” he finally said. “But it may not be possible to rekindle our romance, and I want all three of you to understand that. My goal has changed. I want Thranduil and I to be kind to each other again, and if more happens, fine. But I will not consider it a failure if we end at friendship, or even kindly acquaintanceship.”

     Galion nodded. “I can agree to that.” Haldir and Legolas murmured their own agreement, and the butler rubbed his hands together. “In any event, we have our work cut out for us. So let’s get to it.”


	37. Chapter 33

     By the next morning, no formal plan had been settled on, merely that it was probably best to keep Elrond and Thranduil separate for as much of the day as possible. Legolas had scouting duties that day, so he invited Elrond to go with him. He could help Legolas keep an eye out for spiders (though since the One Ring had been destroyed they were becoming a rare sight in Mirkwood) and Legolas could give him a tour of the areas outside Thranduil’s halls. The two left bright and early, with only Haldir there to see them off. Once they were gone, Haldir turned and went straight to Thranduil’s room, where he knew the older elf was most likely having breakfast. He wasn’t sure how Thranduil or anyone else would take his interference, but he hated to see Thranduil upset, and felt that he had to try. When he arrived at the elaborately-carved double doors that marked the boundary of Thranduil’s private chambers, he knocked softly. Galion answered, and though he did give the marchwarden a questioning look, he simply let Haldir in and motioned towards Thranduil’s bedroom. Haldir nodded and made his way to the bedroom door, where he knocked again and then slipped inside when Thranduil’s voice called for him to enter.

     Haldir shut the door behind him and smiled at Thranduil, who was sitting up in bed, a tray of food beside him and a massive book in his lap. The book was battered and worn, clearly a well-loved old book – just the kind Haldir liked, whenever he had the time to read. “What’s that?” he asked, settling onto the edge of Thranduil’s bed.

     “It’s…it’s a book of poetry. I got it from Elrond long ago.” Thranduil sighed a little. “He never formally gave it to me, I just…failed to return it to him, and I think after a while he either forgot or just decided not to ask about it.”

     “It looks like you read it a lot,” Haldir said.

     Thranduil simply nodded. “By now I take it you know what happened between us? If Elrond himself didn’t tell you I assume Legolas did.”

     Haldir nodded and took some fruit from Thranduil’s tray. “And Galion,” he said. “I hate seeing you so upset over this.”

     Thranduil turned his eyes way from Haldir and looked up at the skylight built into his ceiling. When the spiders had come, the skylight, like all such openings into the caverns, had been mostly covered over with protective bars. But a little light could still get through, and Thranduil studied the patterns it made between the bars as he thought. “I just…how can I forgive him? It would be one thing if he had been forced into marriage, like me, but he wasn’t…how can he say he still cared, while going off and marrying someone else? Why didn’t he come to see me before if I still mattered?”

     At first, Haldir didn’t answer. He munched on the fruit he had taken and watched Thranduil, waiting to see if the other had anything else to say. But when the silence began to grow uncomfortable, he said, “Well, if you want my opinion, you have a right to be angry at him.” He stopped to give Thranduil a chance to say that no, he didn’t want to hear Haldir’s opinion, but no such protest came, so he pressed on. “But at the same time, have you tried to see it from his point of view? People react differently to the same situation, you know that. You’re one of the people who taught me that.”

     Thranduil sighed. “Everything is so confusing about this. I can’t think clearly, or see anything beyond myself…”

     Haldir finished his fruit and finally climbed all the way onto the bed, crossing his legs so he could face Thranduil fully. “Did Legolas or I ever tell you about the huge argument we had that almost ended our relationship?”

     “No…I can’t imagine you two ever fighting like that.”

     Haldir chuckled a little. “Well, we did, once. It was one of the first years you let him go to Lorien with me. I can’t even remember what we fought about now, something stupid I’m sure, but I remember it was a long and loud fight. It ended with Legolas storming off, packing his things, and riding off to come back here, while I sat on my father’s flet and fumed. I was perfectly content with the idea of never seeing him again and I’m sure he felt the same way about me.”

     Thranduil just stared at him in shock. “No wonder you two never bothered to tell me about this,” he said.

     “Anyway,” Haldir continued, “it got dark, and I started to worry about him because he was travelling alone. And then I started to think about the fight again, and at first all I could think about was how Legolas had wronged me. And then one of my fellow trainees pointed out to me that, to everyone who could hear us – and it was pretty much everyone, mind you – my half of the argument sounded just as stupid and wrong as his half did. Both of us were making these huge assumptions and not even listening to each other. Both of us had made mistakes. I let that sink in for a bit, and then I realized he was right, so I got my own horse and went after Legolas.” He paused to stretch his back a little. “I caught up with him just as he was about to cross out of our borders. He didn’t want to listen to me at first, but finally I just shouted at him that I was wrong too and he stopped, and we talked, and we made up.”

     “That’s all very well and good for you, but I think a youthful spat that resulted in a few hours of separation is a little different from my situation,” Thranduil replied.

     Haldir tilted his head in a surprisingly Thranduil-like manner. “Is it? If you think really hard, can you honestly say that _all_ of the mistakes here were Elrond’s alone? Can you honestly say that you made _no_ mistakes?”

     Thranduil took a deep breath and opened his mouth to protest, then fell silent for a moment. He opened his mouth again, brow furrowed as he prepared to deliver his perfect answer, then stopped once more. Finally, he gave Haldir a sheepish grin. “When did you become so wise?” he asked.

     Haldir blushed a little and looked down at his hands in his lap. “I had to, after my parents died,” he said. “I had to care for my brothers, and even though I had help, I felt like they were my responsibility and I shouldn’t rely on anyone else.” He looked up again and added, “Besides, I had all kinds of wonderful role models looking out for me.”

     Thranduil set his book aside and motioned for Haldir to come closer, then gave the younger elf a tight hug. “Ah, Haldir,” he said. “You have no idea how proud I am to have you as a son. I know it’s not official yet, of course, but I have long felt that way about you.” He sighed a little. “I will take your advice, though, given what has happened between me and Elrond already, I don’t know if it will fix anything.”

     “But it’s worth trying,” Haldir said. He pulled away from Thranduil so he could look the older elf in the eye. “You had something that lasted for so long before other things got in the way. Wouldn’t it be a shame to throw it away for good, without even trying to fix things? And, if I might say so…perhaps Elrond has nothing to do with it, but this morning you look better than I have seen you look in a long time. It’s like there’s more color in your cheeks again, and you seem more vibrant. Like I said, it might have nothing to do with him, but my friends in Lorien always commented that I looked so much healthier after seeing Legolas…”

     Thranduil nodded a bit. “I do believe you’re right. Where is Elrond, anyway?”

     “He went scouting with Legolas.”

     “Really?” Thranduil asked. Haldir nodded. “I’m surprised…to put himself in danger for Mirkwood already…well. When they are expected back, I’ll go with you to greet them.”

     The two elves stayed in Thranduil’s room, eating fruit and talking about other things, until it was almost mid-day and Haldir declared that Elrond and Legolas would be back any minute. Thranduil shooed him so he could put on some clothes more appropriate for being seen in public, including his crown, then followed Haldir down to the great gates. Elrond had wanted to see them in the daylight and had specifically asked Legolas if there was any way to fit them into their patrol. Legolas had said they would simply return by those gates instead of by the smaller and more hidden ready room entrance. And sure enough, just as Haldir and Thranduil arrived at the gates, Legolas was leading Elrond through them, pointing out various features of the gates and the entry area as they went. He smiled brightly when he noticed his father and fiancée both waiting, though anything he might have said was interrupted by Haldir sweeping forward and scooping him up for a deep, passionate kiss.

     Elrond and Thranduil watched them for a moment, then both quickly turned away, cheeks burning red. Though neither had any way to know what the other was thinking, the sight of the two young elves had stirred memories of their own younger days, and they could both clearly remember all the times they had exchanged kisses and embraces and sweet, tender words. Elrond dared to look up first, gaze going past the younger elves to Thranduil. For the first time, Elrond could see the younger Thranduil he had once known, as though that Thranduil was just hiding behind a cold mask, and had been waiting for a moment like this to awaken the memories that would free him. And then, finally, Thranduil too looked up again, and his eyes met Elrond’s. The spark that shot through Elrond was like lightening, and from the way Thranduil’s eyes went wide, he knew the blond elf felt it too.

     Haldir and Legolas finally pulled apart, and after Legolas thanked Elrond for his company on the morning patrol, he took Haldir’s hand and they wandered off deeper into the caverns, leaving the older elves alone. For the longest time, neither spoke, and they did their best to avoid each other’s eyes. But finally, Thranduil cleared his throat.

     “Elrond? Would you…would you by any chance be willing to join me for dinner tonight?”

     Elrond raised an eyebrow at him. “Will you shout at me again?” he asked.

     Thranduil shook his head. “No. I cannot promise the conversation will be easy, but I promise not to behave so poorly towards you again.”

     “Then I accept,” Elrond said. “And I will look forward to it.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil had dinner set up for them in his pool room, one of the few places in his halls that wasn’t public and also wasn’t his study or his bedroom. He asked Galion to be their only attendant once the food was brought up to maximize their privacy, and made sure the guards knew not to bother him except in an extreme emergency. And then he locked himself in his room for a few hours while he tried to decide how to dress, finally settling on a pale blue robe and no jewelry. And then, with that decision made, he couldn’t dawdle any longer.

     Elrond arrived moments before he did, and Galion ushered them both to their seats. The servants brought them a veritable feast – fresh salads, a light soup, roasted pheasant, bowls piled high with fruit, and a plate filled to bursting with cakes drizzled with honey and cream for dessert. Elrond had to admit that he was impressed, though for the time being he chose not to comment. Thranduil seemed to feel that the dinner was normal, and he didn’t want to risk insult by making a fuss over something Thranduil deemed not-fuss-worthy.

     They made it most of the way through the roasted pheasant without speaking a word or even looking at each other, and Elrond was starting to wonder why Thranduil had even bothered to invite him to dinner if they weren’t going to talk, when Thranduil finally broke the silence.

     “I had an interesting conversation with Haldir today.”

     “He’s a fine young ellon,” Elrond replied. “You must be pleased with Legolas’s choice of partner.”

     Thranduil smiled a little and nodded. “Though…long ago, when he was small, I promised myself not to meddle in his relationships the way Adar did. Barring extreme circumstances, I wanted him to choose.”

     “So what did you two discuss?” Elrond asked. He took another serving of the roasted pheasant, which seemed to please Thranduil.

     “He told me about an argument he and Legolas had once. It…made me understand that I have been unfair to you. We both made mistakes, Elrond. We both failed to do things we probably should have done, and we both did things we probably shouldn’t have. It’s not fair of me to expect perfection from you, and to pretend my faults don’t exist.”

     Elrond wasn’t entirely sure how to react to that. But he found that he agreed with Thranduil. “You’re right,” he said. “Though I should tell you that I don’t believe marrying Celebrían was a mistake. It was…perhaps not the wisest choice I could have made, but I cannot regret marrying the mother of my children.”

     Thranduil watched him for a moment, and from the completely blank look on his face, Elrond was certain he had just ruined any chance of reconciliation they had. But finally, Thranduil shook his head. “No…No, you’re right. Fatherhood is about the only joy I’ve had these past centuries. I can’t say I’m pleased that you married, but I can’t say I would have wanted you to deny yourself the joy of having children either. And I certainly wouldn’t deny your children a mother.”

     “When did your wife leave?”

     “Shortly after Legolas was born. Within days, actually. She sailed to Valinor.”

     Elrond nodded a bit. “I don’t know if you would have heard of it out here, but Celebrían was captured and tortured by orcs. She chose to leave for Valinor soon after.”

     Thranduil’s face filled with sadness, but somehow it relieved Elrond, for he felt quite certain that this wasn’t Thranduil’s usual personal sorrow. “I’m so sorry,” the blond elf breathed. “No, I had no idea about that. Nobody deserves such a fate.”

     “Thank you,” Elrond said, and without even thinking about it he reached out to take Thranduil’s hand. He didn’t notice he had done so until Thranduil suddenly jerked his hand back, nearly spilling his water all over the table. Elrond quickly pulled his own hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just an instinct.”

     Thranduil studied him, eyes wandering over Elrond’s face and teeth worrying at his lower lip as he thought. Finally, and quite deliberately, he raised his hand and rested it back on the table, as close to the center of the table as he could reach without awkward stretching. Elrond just tilted his head a little and raised an eyebrow at Thranduil, who simply nodded once and glanced at his hand before looking back at Elrond’s face. Their eyes met, and Elrond reached out to rest his hand over Thranduil’s, and within moments the rush of warmth and explosive emotion that had once been so familiar to them both was back. Thranduil gasped sharply and closed his eyes, while Elrond nearly fell out of his chair and had to grip the side of the table to maintain his balance. He pulled his hand away from Thranduil’s and the feeling subsided almost instantly, though it took them both a few moments to catch their breath and be willing to look at one another again.

     “So it is still there,” Elrond said. “I had thought perhaps our earlier experience in the gateway was a fluke.”

     “Apparently it was not,” Thranduil said. He still sounded quite breathless. “But what does this mean now?” he added, murmuring more to himself than to Elrond.

     Elrond heard, though, and felt it was a good question. What _did_ it mean? Certainly, they were under no obligation to rebuild their romance…but their connection was still there and as strong as ever. What would happen if they chose not to pursue a relationship again? Elrond felt sick at the thought. He wondered if that, too, was a sign.

     “Now, I think we move slowly, and also that we need to make some decisions on our own. Namely, what kind of relationship we would want to pursue again, if indeed we choose to continue patching things up.”

     “I don’t think there’s a question of the later,” Thranduil said. “We’ve gone too long being sour at each other for no good reason. Or at least, I was sour, you seem to have escaped that.”

     Elrond nodded a bit. “Then you believe we should continue trying to reconcile?”

     “I do,” Thranduil said. “I do, if you’re willing.”

     “I do believe that I am,” Elrond said.

     “Then stay here a little longer,” Thranduil said. “It’s not so dangerous now, with Sauron gone. You might come to like this place.”


	38. Chapter 34

     A few days later, Elrond asked Legolas to send a messenger to Imladris to let everyone there know that he was safe and was choosing to stay on in Mirkwood for a while longer. And then, he settled into a comfortable routine. In the morning, he accompanied Legolas on whatever duties the young prince had, and from him he learned how things were done in Mirkwood. Lunch was a bit of a toss-up. Sometimes he wound up alone, at other times he had Galion to keep him company, and at still other times he wound up eating with groups of Mirkwood elves who were curious about him and eager for his company. At some point in the afternoon, he and Thranduil would meet to talk again. At first their conversations were short but pleasant, with little true substance. But little by little, their conversations grew longer and more substantive, and suddenly one day Elrond found himself being invited to the family dinner table with Thranduil, Legolas, and Haldir. And then, when that had been going on for almost two weeks, he found that he longed for his own children to be able to join them. Without even intending it, he had begun to think of the two Mirkwood elves and the Lorien marchwarden as family. But he had no idea if Thranduil felt the same way, yet, and he didn’t know if Legolas or Haldir had opinions on the matter either. It wasn’t until Galion started dropping random comments about ‘dinner with the family’ and ‘family gatherings’ in their presence without receiving corrections or reprimands that Elrond had any inkling that the blond elves felt the same.

   One night, after he had been in Mirkwood for almost two months, he was alone in his chambers after a particularly pleasant dinner together. Legolas had chased him down after to say that Thranduil hadn’t laughed so hard or smiled so much since Legolas’s own childhood, and he was certain Elrond was the reason for it. Elrond secretly felt that Legolas was giving him too much credit, but he thanked the young prince anyway before entering his own room and starting to settle in for the night. He had gotten as far as climbing into bed when someone knocked on his door, and he rolled back out of bed to go see who it was.

     He certainly wasn’t expecting Thranduil.

     “Thranduil?” he asked when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

     Thranduil just stood there in silence for a moment, eyes closed and breathing deeply, and for a time Elrond thought that he must be drunk again. But Thranduil had had no wine at dinner, and Elrond couldn’t smell anything on him, so he simply waited. Finally, Thranduil seemed to gather his courage enough to open his eyes, and he met Elrond’s gaze. “I…oh, this is so awkward, what am I even doing here?” And he turned as though to leave.

     Elrond reached out and touched his arm, which made him stop. “Thranduil, just say what you came here to say,” he said. “Surely there is no harm in it.”

     Thranduil sighed. “I…was wondering if perhaps…I could stay here for the night. With you.” Elrond’s eyes widened in surprise, and Thranduil quickly added, “I don’t want to _do_ anything. Just sleep, and maybe talk. Nothing more.”

     Elrond considered the request, then nodded and stepped aside so Thranduil could enter. Elrond closed the door behind him, then padded back around to his side of the bed and crawled in. For the longest time Thranduil just stood there watching him, then the king finally shrugged out of the light robe he wore over his night clothes and set it on a nearby chair before climbing into the bed’s free side. He lay there on his back, stiff as a board and eyes fixed on the ceiling.

     It was certainly the most awkward time Elrond had ever spent in a bed with him.

     Elrond rolled onto his side so he was facing Thranduil, who just kept his eyes fixed on a particular spot on the ceiling. “Thranduil?” he said softly, but the other elf didn’t respond. “Thranduil.” Still gentle, but just a touch more demanding this time. Still no response. Elrond sighed. “Thranduil…” he said, and this time he reached out to touch the other’s cheek and pushed gently, until Thranduil finally turned to face him. He looked so nervous, frightened really, and Elrond felt his heart ache for the blond elf. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered. “You don’t have to force yourself to be here.”

     “But I want to be here,” Thranduil whispered back. “I do. I just…it’s been so long since I was with _anyone_ like this, and you have to understand that the last time it was with my wife, and that was never pleasant…I don’t even know how to relax about this sort of thing anymore.”

     “Turn over to face me, please,” Elrond said. At first Thranduil hesitated, and Elrond was sure he would refuse, but then Thranduil slowly rolled over, shifting his body on the mattress so that he faced Elrond but didn’t move closer to him. “There you are,” Elrond said, and he smiled warmly as he stroked Thranduil’s cheek. After a time, the gentle touch and the fact that Elrond made no move to do anything else made him relax a bit, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Ah,” Elrond said. “And there you are again. It’s about time. I missed my Silmaril.”

     Thranduil’s mouth dropped open and, just as Elrond had hoped, he burst out laughing. “ _Elrond_!” he gasped between laughs. “Are you never going to drop that?”

     “Not if it gets this kind of reaction from you,” Elrond replied. “You have been sad for far too long. I would see you laugh and smile like this again, even if…even if things don’t work out between us.”

     The laughter finally died down, and Thranduil reached up to take Elrond’s hand. “You still think there’s a chance that it won’t work out?” he asked.

     “Do you think otherwise?”

     Thranduil considered for a moment, then said, “…I think I would like to meet your children. And this is not something I would ask if we were mere friends, or if I thought this would fail.”

     Elrond wanted to answer right away, but first he had to fight against his heart, which seemed to want to leap out of his chest at Thranduil’s words. “Of course,” he said. “I would love for you to meet them. And it’s a long journey back to Imladris…we can accomplish so much in the time it takes to get there.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Are you _sure_ you’re ready for a trip like this?”

     Thranduil folded his robe carefully and tucked it into his travelling chest, then finally looked at Galion again. “Honestly, I have no idea, but I won’t be alone. Elrond will be there.”

     “I think Galion’s concern is well-founded, Ada,” Legolas added. He was sitting in the midst of a pile of his father’s best tunics. Thranduil had gotten tired of Legolas pacing and had set him the task of sorting clothes instead. Haldir stood nearby, doing the same with piles of leggings and long robes. “You haven’t even set foot outside of Mirkwood in sixty years, and that time it was only to go to Erebor…which is much closer than Imladris.”

     “And things are still a bit tense between you and Lord Elrond, aren’t they?” Haldir asked.

     Thranduil sighed and took a silvery-green tunic from Legolas, folded it, and stuffed it into the chest too. He eyed the chest, wondering how much more he could cram into it before needing another one. “Well, not as much as they were…we shared a bed last night.” Galion nearly choked in surprise at this pronouncement, while Legolas and Haldir both gasped and Legolas breathed a shocked, “ _No_ ,” at him.

     “We did,” Thranduil confirmed.

     “That seems…sudden, and fast,” Haldir said. “Are you sure being so intimate with him so soon was a good idea?”

     Thranduil scowled at him, though to his credit Haldir barely even flinched. “I said we ‘shared a bed,’ I said nothing about…about…” Everything from Thranduil’s neck to the delicate tips of his ears turned bright red, “…about being intimate. _Some_ of us can share beds without…without doing… _things_!”

     Haldir bit his lip to keep from laughing, but Galion allowed himself to snicker a little. Legolas’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. “Things like intercourse, you mean?”

     Thranduil threw a pillow at his son. “This is my curse, to be stuck in a room with the three of you laughing at me,” he said. But as the redness faded from his face, he too began to laugh. “I…I do truly appreciate your concern, all of you,” he added, “but I wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t feel right.” His eyes darted between Haldir and Legolas. “You two, of all people, should understand that sometimes the soul mate bond pushes us to do things that logic might say we should avoid. Souls aren’t very logical, I suppose.”

     “But still…You, and Elrond, alone,” Legolas said.

     “Let us go with you,” Haldir added.

     “Out of the question,” Thranduil said. He finally gave up on trying to stuff more clothes into one chest, and found another to fill. “Someone needs to stay here and be in charge while I’m gone.”

     Legolas shrugged. “So let Galion do it.”

     “Legolas, I don’t think –“

     “Yes, it’s a brilliant idea,” Galion said before Thranduil could finish. The king turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “What?” Galion asked. “I’ve served you long enough to have picked up a few things. I’m the one handling most of the important day-to-day details anyway. Besides, we all know how well it went the last time you were away from Legolas for a long time. And what other options do you have? Go by yourself, take Legolas, or take Haldir…how are you going to choose which one to take? So just take them both. I promise Mirkwood will still be here and still be yours by the time you return.”

     “I still don’t think I like this idea,” Thranduil said.

     Legolas huffed. “I’m exercising my right as prince to make a decision, then –Haldir and I are going with you whether you want us to or not. You two shouldn’t travel alone anyway. And besides, it would be nice to get to know my future brothers better.”

     This time, Thranduil went pale. “Now you _are_ getting ahead of yourself,” he said. “We never even talked about anything like that _before_ all of this happened…”

     “Call it a hunch, then,” Legolas said. “At the very least, his sons could become my friends. And won’t that be valuable when I’m the Elvenking and they’re the Lords of Imladris?”

   Thranduil sighed and went back to his packing. Clearly, there was no arguing with his son on this matter. “Fine,” he said. “But at the first sign of trouble from Mirkwood, you’re turning right around and coming back to fix things.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Early the next morning, Thranduil held a public ceremony to announce his upcoming absence and to declare Galion his regent. Galion looked utterly terrified through most of the ceremony, though the moment Thranduil placed the silver circlet chosen just for the occasion on his head, he managed to fight down the fear in his face and began to look a bit more confident instead. His first act as regent was to convene a council of Thranduil’s most trusted captains, stewards, and other assistants to help him run Mirkwood in the king’s absence. And then, it was time for Thranduil and his companions to set out on their journey.

     Elrond didn’t pay much attention to the goings-on around him as he saddled his horse and made sure their supplies were secured on the pack horses. He glanced up and smiled when Thranduil patted his shoulder in passing, but with the distraction gone he immediately went back to his original task. Finally, though, he was content that their supplies were secure, and he looked up to assess the group’s readiness to leave.

     And that was when he saw the last thing he had ever expected to see.

     “Thranduil,” he said. “That’s an elk.”

     “So it is!” Thranduil replied quite cheerfully as he stroked the animal’s neck. “And a fine one, too.”

     “…Why is there an elk here, now?” Elrond asked.

     Behind him, Haldir barely managed to stifle a laugh, and as Elrond turned to face the younger elves, Legolas said, “That’s his mount. He rides an elk instead of a horse.”

     When Elrond turned back to the king, Thranduil had a vaguely smug smile on his lips. He hadn’t stopped stroking the elk. “Thranduil,” Elrond sighed and rubbed his head. “We don’t have the facilities to care for an elk in Imladris. He’ll never even make it through the gates! Most beings ride horses and ponies, you know, we never expected to have elk-mounted visitors.”

     Thranduil’s smugness faded to disappointment. “But he’s such a good pet…”

     “I’m sure he is, but that doesn’t change the fact that our stables and gates aren’t set up for elks,” Elrond said. When Thranduil continued to look upset, he turned to Legolas and motioned for the younger elf to come closer. When Legolas was beside him, he whispered, “Is he actually upset about this or is he just being stubborn?”

     “Oh, I think he just doesn’t want to leave his pet behind,” Legolas said. “He quite likes his elks. They’re gentle animals, at least with him, and you have to admit an elk mount _is_ unique. But I don’t think he’s truly upset. Give him a minute.”

     Elrond took Legolas’s advice, and before long, Thranduil gave his elk a final pat on the nose and sent it off back to the stables as he called for a horse instead. He turned to Elrond and said, “Just this one time. If my visits to Imladris become a regular thing, you’re going to have to do some remodeling.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The site they had chosen for the evening’s camp was quite beautiful, in Elrond’s opinion, and he found himself wondering if it would make a nice spot for a little house half-way between Mirkwood and Imladris. It would be far easier to live in such a place, with Thranduil as his companion, than for them to maintain their separate homes. After all, travelling from this spot would cut the trip down in either direction by several weeks. But then, he thought, it was far too early to be considering such things as living together or building a home.

     It was Elrond’s turn to clean up after dinner that night, and he lost track of his companions as he worked. But when his task was finally complete, he began to search for them. He almost immediately regretted looking for Legolas and Haldir – they had apparently found themselves a nice place in some bushes not too far from camp, and the quiet moans and gasps Elrond heard as he approached the spot told him he shouldn’t go any further. He immediately turned on his heel and went off in the opposite direction, towards the stream that ran past their camp, and he much preferred what he found there – Thranduil, sitting on a rock, with his boots propped against it and his leggings rolled up to his knees so he could dangle his feet in the cool water. Every so often he kicked and splashed, watching the way the fading sunlight sparkled on the droplets of water he sent flying through the air. The whole process seemed to delight him, and Elrond almost didn’t want to interrupt him, either. But before long, Thranduil felt eyes on him, and when he discovered Elrond was watching him he smiled and motioned for the dark-haired elf to join him. Elrond grinned at him and tugged his own boots off, then set them down beside Thranduil’s, rolled his own pants up, and climbed onto the rock to join him. He gasped when he dipped his toes in the water, which was cooler than he thought it would be.

     “You look like you saw something you didn’t want to,” Thranduil said.

     “I saw nothing, but only because my hearing is good,” Elrond replied. Thranduil just laughed. “You think it’s funny, do you?” Elrond teased.

     “Yes, I think it’s hilarious,” Thranduil said, reaching up to poke Elrond’s shoulder. “The doors in Mirkwood are thick, and I have not always had the benefit of hearing things before seeing them, if you catch my meaning.”

     Elrond shuddered. “I find myself grateful that Arwen lives in Gondor and my sons are, to my knowledge, still unattached.” He sighed and watched Thranduil play with the water a bit more. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

     Thranduil nodded. “I do like the water,” he said, “and it’s rare that I get to enjoy it any more. The river that runs outside our gates isn’t safe, and the water that runs inside is not always mine to enjoy in private. And, you know, it would hardly do for a king to be discovered splashing in a stream.”

     “You will love Imladris, then,” Elrond said. “You already saw the river of course, but we have many fountains now as well, and Lindir and Erestor no longer have to haul buckets of water for baths.”

     “I’m sure they’re pleased with that.”

     “Indeed.” They sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying the stream and each other’s company. Finally, Elrond asked, “Did you ever return to your lake?”

     Thranduil shook his head slowly. “No…I tried, once, but on that journey I slipped and hurt my knee, and the guard Adar had sent to track me came to my aid. I was grateful for her help, of course, but from that moment on I realized my every move was being watched. I decided I would rather not go to the lake than have Adar know it existed. He had taken everything else from me…he wasn’t going to take that.” He reached up to wipe at his face, and Elrond suddenly realized he was crying. “I don’t even know if it’s still there, or if it would be safe, or if it would be anything like it was when we knew it…but at least in my head, it’s just as it always was…” Thranduil trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut.

     Elrond gently put an arm around his shoulders, and Thranduil leaned against him. “There are many hidden places in and around Imladris,” he whispered. “It will never be your old lake, but perhaps we can find something you would enjoy anyway.”

   “That would be nice…” Thranduil said. “A little place, all our own…” He raised his head from Elrond’s shoulder to smile at him, and Elrond reached up to cup Thranduil’s cheek.

     The two just sat there for the longest time, gazing into each other’s eyes, Elrond’s thumb brushing gently over the soft skin of Thranduil’s cheek. And then, without even being fully aware they were doing it, they leaned in for a tender kiss. Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat as Elrond’s lips met his, the softness and gentleness of the kiss driving away any lingering doubts he might have had about his feelings for the dark-haired elf, and his hands came up to tangle in Elrond’s hair. Elrond gasped a little when he felt those long, delicate fingers in his hair once more, and captured Thranduil’s lower lip between his own. He pulled back for just a moment, and when their lips met again, Thranduil’s were parted and he let out a soft, inviting moan of longing. Elrond took the opportunity to run the tip of his tongue over Thranduil’s lip. The blond elf opened his mouth more, allowing Elrond to explore more fully. When they finally broke their kiss, Thranduil’s breath was shaky and his cheeks burned red, but he smiled brightly at the equally red-cheeked Elrond.

     Thranduil leaned closer to him so he could whisper in his ear. “Will you come to my tent tonight?”

     “Only if you wish it,” Elrond whispered back. “I would not force anything on you.”

     “I just want you near me,” Thranduil said. “Nothing more tonight than…well, this, I suppose.”

     Elrond nodded. “Then I shall join you.”


	39. Chapter 35

     He awoke, as he had these past several days, with Thranduil’s head on his chest and Thranduil’s silvery-gold hair spread over him like a soft blanket. As he had each morning, he smiled down at the sleeping elf and reached up to stroke that impossibly soft and smooth hair, then ran his fingertip along the shell of Thranduil’s ear. Slowly but surely, Thranduil awoke, and he propped his chin on Elrond’s chest as he gave the other a sleepy smile.

     “Good morning,” he murmured, and then yawned a bit.

    “Good morning to you as well,” Elrond murmured back. “It’s a little early, I know, but I thought it would be nice to get a head start today…if we do, we can reach Imladris in time for dinner.”

     “Are you ready for me to eat dinner with your sons?” Thranduil asked.

     “Well, I won’t say anything about why you’re here before dinner,” Elrond said. “And then after dinner, I’ll speak with them in private before asking you to spend any more time together.”    

     Thranduil nodded and absent-mindedly traced patterns on Elrond’s chest. “How do you think they’ll take it?”

     Elrond sighed a little and rubbed Thranduil’s back. “In honesty, I do not know. We have never spoken about such things…they have never seen or heard of me with anyone but their mother, and we know few elves who have taken partners of the same sex. I suppose I should have said something before coming to see you. But at the time I had no idea what to say.”

     “Well, perhaps we have nothing to fear, then.” Thranduil pushed away from Elrond and crawled out of the tent before standing and grabbing his bag. He retrieved some soap, a towel, and a clean change of clothes. “Wake Legolas and Haldir, will you? I’m going to take a quick bath in the river.”

     “Oh sure, leave the most difficult task for me,” Elrond teased. But he kissed Thranduil’s cheek and let the other elf disappear into the bushes on the riverbanks before going to rouse the younger elves.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     When the four elves rode into Imladris, they were greeted by quite the crowd. Elladan and Elrohir were of course the most obvious in the crowd, with Lindir standing right beside them and looking terribly relieved that Lord Elrond was finally back. The golden-haired Glorfindel and aide Erestor stood nearby as well. Elrond barely allowed his horse to come to a halt before dismounting and greeting his sons, who both tackled him at once. When he finally let them go, he turned to hold Thranduil’s horse while the blond elf dismounted.

     “My Lord Elrond,” Lindir said, appearing at his side, “I am pleased to find you well. And…Welcome back to Imladris, your grace,” he added, giving Thranduil a respectful bow.

     “Please, Lindir, just Thranduil,” he said. “There’s no need to be so formal with me.”

     “I trust everything has been quiet here?” Elrond asked Lindir. Around them, servants began unpacking the horses and taking directions from Legolas on which items belonged to which traveler.

     “Very quiet, my lord,” Lindir replied. “In fact that most excitement we have had was guessing when you would return.” He looked a bit sheepish as he added, “I have become quite wealthy from it, as I guessed you would return before winter, while most others here suspected you would be gone far longer.”

     Elrond raised an eyebrow, then chuckled and shook his head. “The things you get up to when I’m not around,” he said.

     “All harmless fun, I assure you,” Lindir replied.

     Elrond motioned for Lindir, his sons, and his guests to follow him and headed into the nearest building. Legolas didn’t seem terribly interested in the architecture or scenery, but both Haldir and Thranduil, who had never seen Imladris in all its glory, were utterly entranced. “It has been a long road, Lindir, so if you could order the kitchens to begin preparing dinner at once I would very much appreciate it. And perhaps some hot baths for us all…I find myself a bit stiff after so many straight days of riding and walking.”

     “Of course,” Lindir said, and scurried off to do Elrond’s bidding.

     “I have heard tell of the beauty of Imladris,” Haldir said, “but this…I couldn’t even imagine it.”

     “It’s a vast improvement from the last time I was here,” Thranduil said, which earned him an appreciative chuckle from Elrond.

     “When were you last here?” Legolas asked, frowning a little.

     Thranduil waved his hand. “Oh, it was long before you were born. Have I never told you that story?” Legolas shook his head, so Thranduil said, “Well, maybe over dinner then, if Elrond will let me.”

     “By all means,” Elrond said. He clapped Thranduil on the shoulder. “We can tell the tale together. Maybe Lindir will sing the song he wrote about it if we ask him nicely enough.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “…And to this day I’m certain that had it not been for your father’s little Greenwood army, the battle would have been much more difficult. As it was, the orcs didn’t expect to be routed by _three_ armies.”

     Thranduil raised his glass in a toast to Elrond as the dark-haired elf finished the story. Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir applauded appreciatively, and in the background, Lindir was busy tuning his harp in preparation for singing his song. But Legolas looked perplexed, and now he frowned as he turned to his father.

     “Why do I feel you have both left something out?” he asked. When Thranduil and Elrond didn’t answer him, he added, “You said you went without telling my grandfather…why, though? And what happened after you returned?”

     Thranduil swirled his wine in his glass and at first he refused to meet Legolas’s gaze. But then he took a deep breath and said, “You grandfather didn’t want to send help. He was concerned only with things that directly affected Mirkwood – it was green then, so we called it the Greenwood. I knew he would be furious if I left, so I didn’t tell him. And I was right, of course, though I didn’t know how furious until I returned.” He finished the wine and held the empty glass out for a refill. Elrond didn’t usually keep Dorwinion stocked, and so this wine was much weaker than what the Elvenking was used to. “It was a turning point in our relationship, and not for the better.”

     “…No wonder you’ve never spoken of it,” Legolas said. “…Did you have any family with whom you got along?”

     “Well, I have you. We get along, don’t we?” Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded. “And I did get along with your grandfather when we were younger, before the War of Wrath happened and his overprotectiveness took over.”

     Elrond cleared his throat a little and turned to look at Lindir. “About ready with that song, Lindir?”

     “Yes, my lord,” the minstrel said, and everyone fell silent to listen to him sing. By the end of the song, Thranduil was fighting laughter.

     “I appreciate it, Lindir, but surely I wasn’t _that_ impressive,” he said.

   Lindir laughed. “Well…I was younger then, so to me, you were. I don’t suppose you brought golden armor with you this time? We could re-create the scene and see if my thoughts are different.”

     “No armor this time, Lindir, I wasn’t planning on a war,” Thranduil said.

     “Ah, a pity. About the armor, of course, not the war,” Lindir replied.

     They all talked a little longer, then Elrond pushed back from the table and pointed to his sons. “May I speak with you two privately?” he asked. The twins looked a little confused and curious, but they nodded, and the three elves rose to leave. Lindir watched them go, then turned a suspicious look on Thranduil.

     “What is that about?” he asked.

     Thranduil just raised an eyebrow. “Think hard about the last time I was here, Lindir,” he said. “I think you know the answer to your own question.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Once in his study, Elrond motioned for his sons to sit at his table, and brought the chair from his desk over to join them. He had been trying to decide how to have this conversation with them for days now, and still hadn’t come up with a good answer. But it had to be done…perhaps just being straightforward and answering their questions was the only way to handle it.

     He just hoped they weren’t angry.

     “You two are probably wondering why I brought the Elvenking, his son, and his son’s fiancé back with me from Mirkwood,” he said.

     “The question had crossed our minds,” Elrohir said.

     “It’s not as though you’ve ever spoken of him before…” Elladan said.

     “I had no idea you two had ever met,” Elrohir said.

     Elrond nodded. “Well, we did meet, long ago, when I lived in Lindon. I told you about that, right?”

     The twins nodded. “It’s where you started to serve Gil-galad,” Elladan said.

     “Yes,” Elrond said. “But more importantly for this conversation, it’s where I met Thranduil…and…where I fell in love with him.”

     Elrond wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he had been expecting from his sons, but what he got wasn’t it. The two took the news in stride, barely even seeming surprised. Elladan leaned back in his seat and nodded, and Elrohir uttered a simple, “huh,” before turning to his twin.

     “You…don’t seem very surprised,” Elrond said.

   Elladan shrugged a little. “Ada, we never doubted your love for us or Arwen, but even when we were only children we noticed something was off between you and Nana.” Elrond seemed shocked at that pronouncement. “I mean, she would be affectionate with you all the time, and you were always so stiff and formal around her. It was like getting a hug from your wife was the strangest thing that ever happened to you.”

     “I don’t think I ever saw you properly kiss her,” Elrohir said. “And you hugged Lindir and Erestor more openly than you hugged her.”

     “It’s not that we thought you disliked her or anything,” Elladan said, “but you know, eventually we got old enough to compare you two to our grandparents, and it was just so different…”

     Elrohir nodded. “For you to come in here now and tell us you were in love with someone else just isn’t that shocking. I guess you never stopped loving him, did you?”

   “I…no,” Elrond said, still staring at his sons in utter shock. “It wasn’t just some normal romance, though…we were soul mates. Or perhaps I should say we _are_ soul mates…are you familiar with this concept?”

     “Yes, Lindir explained it once, when we asked him why he hadn’t taken a lover or spouse,” Elrohir said. “He said he was holding out for his soul mate, and we asked what that meant. Something about the one person you were always fated to be with, always bound to no matter water.”

     Elrond rubbed his forehead. “When did you two ask poor Lindir…you know, I don’t think I want to know.” He sighed, and Elladan reached out to pat his arm. “Back to the topic at hand…can I take this to mean that you would not be terribly upset with me for being involved with Thranduil? He might choose to stay here, or I might go to Mirkwood. Nothing has been decided yet.”

     The twins exchanged a look, and not for the first time Elrond felt that they were somehow communicating with each other in a way he could neither sense nor understand. It didn’t surprise him – he and Elros had had their own private ways of communicating too – but it was a little unnerving sometimes. Especially now, when he desperately wanted an answer from them.

     Finally, they both looked to their father once more. “I suppose not,” Elladan said. “But…we’re not going to forget Nana, you know.”

     “And we’re going to get to know him on our own terms, as his own person,” Elrohir said. “We’re not going to automatically love him just because you do.”

     Elrond was terribly relieved, and he almost wilted in his seat as the tension left his body. It may not have been the ideal answer, but it was far better than what he had feared. “I understand, and I think he will too. Shall I get him? I’m sure he would like to speak with you himself.” The twins nodded, and Elrond dashed off to find Thranduil.

     A short time later, Elrond returned with Thranduil, who joined the twins at the table. Elrond, for his part, stayed back and out of the way, though he didn’t leave the study. Thranduil and the twins sat in silence for a long while, and then Thranduil decided that he should be the first to say something.

     “I…can only imagine how strange this must be for you,” he said. “Legolas too found out just recently, and I know that some of the things he learned were difficult. I understand that you two knew your mother, and had a good relationship with her.” The twins nodded. “Then I need you to understand that I haven’t come to replace her. I won’t force any kind of relationship with me onto either of you. Though, I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope for one. For better or worse, we are going to be a part of each other’s lives from now on and I would like it very much if our relationship could at least be cordial.”

     The twins exchanged a look, and though Thranduil wasn’t familiar with their apparent ability for secret communication, he waited patiently for their response. “I doubt we’ll ever think of you as a father, or anything like that,” Elladan said.

     Thranduil nodded, though he seemed a little disappointed. “Well, as I said…I won’t force anything. But you are always welcome to talk to me about anything, and to ask me any questions you wish.”

     “Was it your father who kept you two apart?” Elrohir asked. Thranduil looked shocked, so he added, “It’s just…at dinner it sounded like the two of you didn’t get along, and if you had to sneak out to bring help here I wondered what else you hid from him.”

     Thranduil nodded again. “Perceptive. Yes, my father disapproved, and when he found out about the relationship he forced me to end it. Much that happened after that was my fault, not his, but he certainly didn’t help.”

     Elrohir simply nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and glanced at Elladan again. The two stood up and stepped away from the table. “We’re going to go talk with Legolas and Haldir a little,” Elladan said. “And you’re right, Thranduil, this is strange for us…but we’re glad you two have a second chance.” He and Thranduil smiled at each other, and the twins turned to leave.

     Elladan wasn’t sure what made him look back, but just before closing the door to his father’s study, he glanced back into the room. By then, Thranduil had left his seat and gone to stand with Elrond, and both were silhouetted in the light from the study’s windows. As Elladan watched, the two elves wrapped their arms around each other and came together for a sweet kiss. And in that moment, at least one of Elrond’s sons had no doubts about what their father had told them, and no doubts that he could accept it quite easily, for anyone that could make his father behave so warmly must be special to him indeed.


	40. Chapter 36

     “Do you think they like me?”

     Elrond looked up from his letter. The other elf held a delicate wine flute, and he slowly rolled the stem of it between his fingers, making the glass rotate as he studied it and the wine within it. He turned his gaze to Elrond and stopped playing with the wine glass, his head tilted at its usual inquisitive angle. Valar, but how Elrond had missed that, and all of Thranduil’s other littler mannerisms. And how long had he waited for Thranduil to be here with him, where he could see those things again…sometimes, he still couldn’t believe they had actually made the journey, that Thranduil was really here.

     He nodded a little. “I think they like you well enough,” he said. “Though it’s still early yet, and hard to say if they will ever feel close to you.”

     Thranduil simply nodded and seemed satisfied with that answer, so Elrond went back to his letter and Thranduil went back to his drink. He finished the wine and leaned forward to set his empty class on the corner of Elrond’s desk, then slowly rose from his chair and went to stand behind Elrond, leaning down and wrapping his arms around the other elf as he propped his chin on Elrond’s shoulder. “What are you writing when you should be giving me all of your attention?” he teased.

     Elrond laughed a little and reached up to pat his arm. “I’m writing to Arwen to see if she can come visit us,” he said. “I want you to meet her too, but I think it would be madness for us to go to Gondor now. I want you to enjoy Imladris a bit more.”

     “Hmm.” At first, it seemed like Thranduil had no intention of moving, and Elrond went back to writing his letter while Thranduil watched. But then the blond elf kissed Elrond’s cheek. “I’m going to take a bath before bed,” he said. “Don’t stay up too late.”

     Elrond nodded. “I won’t. As soon as I finish this I’ll be in.”

     Thranduil made his way back to Elrond’s room and shut the door behind him, then stripped out of his clothes and collected a semi-sheer, shimmering robe for himself before entering the bathroom and drawing his bath. He hung his robe nearby, then settled into the hot water and closed his eyes as he rested his head on the edge of the tub. He made a half-hearted attempt at actually bathing, but his mind was elsewhere, and as he scrubbed, his focus was on his thoughts.

     Around the time they had first kissed again, Thranduil had begun to think that he wanted more with Elrond. With each passing day since the dark-haired elf had first come to Mirkwood, Thranduil’s inhibitions had been falling away, slowly but surely. Finally, he had realized that more than anything else in his life, he wanted his relationship with Elrond to succeed. While he knew they could never have what would have been if Oropher hadn’t interfered and they had been allowed to remain together from the start, he also felt certain that they could build a newer, stronger romantic relationship now. And one thing that meant for Thranduil was renewed physical intimacy with Elrond.

     But at the same time, the idea had frightened him. For the past several centuries, the only people to see him nude had been healers and Galion. For a long while before that, physical intimacy with someone had meant the once-a-season torment of trying to impregnate his wife. While a part of him trusted Elrond, there was a part of him that had become terribly shy about these things, perhaps even frightened of them…and throughout their journey, the fear that Elrond’s children would reject him had always been at the back of his mind. He supposed that such a fear shouldn’t have gotten to him, but it did, mostly because he had no idea what that rejection would mean. His worst fear was that it meant Elrond would back out of their attempted reconciliation.

     But they had made it safely to Imladris. Two of Elrond’s three children had accepted him, at least to a point. Though they hadn’t had sex on the journey, they had shared a bed…and of course they had kissed many times since that first time on the rock by the stream. Thranduil’s desire for intimacy with Elrond had become a growing need. And though he had no idea how he had come to this conclusion, he had decided that tonight was as good a night as any to find out if Elrond felt the same, and to act on it if he did.

     Thranduil eventually climbed out of the tub and dried himself with one of the many soft towels Elrond kept in his bathroom, brushed his hair to perfect smoothness once more, and wrapped himself in the shimmery robe. His plan was to simply sit on the bed and wait for Elrond to arrive. But when he opened the door to step into the bedroom once more, he found that Elrond was already there, back turned to Thranduil as he too began to undress for the night. Thranduil just stared at him, watching his every move. Somehow, Elrond managed to make even the act of undressing attractive in Thranduil’s eyes…the way his arms stretched behind him as he shrugged out of his robe, then swept up to curve above his head as he pulled his undershirt off, and suddenly he was half naked before Thranduil. His muscles rippled just the tiniest bit as he tossed things aside and stretched, and then his hands went to the waist of his leggings –

     “Elrond,” Thranduil murmured. At first, it seemed that Elrond didn’t hear, but then the dark-haired elf paused and turned his head just a bit, and then finally turned his entire body towards Thranduil, a slightly perplexed frown plastered on his face. But the moment he caught sight of Thranduil in his nearly-sheer, shimmering robe, the frown vanished, to be replaced by complete and utter awe.

     “Thranduil…” he whispered. In the past, he would have rushed forward and gathered the other elf in his arms, but now he was worried that doing so would frighten Thranduil and ruin all of their progress. So he settled for staring, letting his eyes wander over Thranduil’s body, gulping a little as he took in the tantalizing glimpses of the other’s naked form that the robe allowed him. And as he did, he could feel the tension rising within himself, the tension of pure desire and longing and an ache he hadn’t felt in centuries, the ache to be connected with Thranduil once more in the intimate ways they had shared…

     Thranduil closed the door behind himself and took a few tentative steps towards Elrond and the bed, keeping slightly to Elrond’s side and holding the other’s gaze as much as possible. It wasn’t until he was beside the other elf that he dropped his eyes, letting them follow the outlines of Elrond’s muscles and the slope of his shoulders, allowing them to graze over the bulge in his pants for a fleeting moment before looking up into Elrond’s eyes again, his cheeks now a soft pink in the dim light. “Elrond, I…”

     Elrond reached out a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers over Thranduil’s cheek, causing the other’s eyes to flutter shut as his lips parted in the sweetest of sighs. His hand came to rest on Thranduil’s shoulder, then trailed gently all the way down his arm, until he could capture Thranduil’s delicate hand in his own. He pulled, just the tiniest bit, to urge Thranduil closer, and the other elf took a few small steps towards him. Elrond closed the remaining distance between them and wrapped his arm around Thranduil’s waist, keeping his grip loose and gentle. At first, it seemed that Thranduil wouldn’t respond, but then he rested his head on Elrond’s shoulder and raised his free arm to wrap around Elrond’s neck. His breathing was soft and shaky, his hand trembling as he rested it first on Elrond’s shoulder and then on the back of his head, where he could play with Elrond’s soft brown hair. Elrond turned his face the tiniest bit towards Thranduil so he could whisper in the other’s ear.

     “Tell me what you wish of me this night, my love.”

     Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of those familiar and much-longed-for words, and for a few moments he felt that his resolve would fail him and he would request that Elrond simply spend the night repeating “my love” over and over to him. But he wanted…no, he _needed_ so much more than that. And in Elrond’s arms, he found his courage once more.

     “I want you,” he whispered back. “Like we used to be…by the lake, and in my bed in the Greenwood…in that dream you wrote to me about…”

     “Are you certain?” Elrond asked. “This is truly what you want?”

     Thranduil didn’t speak a word. He simply pulled away from Elrond and backed up a few steps, then turned away to blow out the few candles in the room, leaving them with only the light of the moon and the stars. He kept his back turned to Elrond as he shrugged out of the robe and let it fall to the floor, shivering a little as the cool air touched his bare skin. He remained like that, barely glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the rustle of Elrond removing his leggings, and then Elrond’s hands were on his shoulders once more. Thranduil sighed a little and gave him a barely perceptible nod, and Elrond slid his hands down Thranduil’s arms, then raised them and brought them to rest once more on Thranduil’s stomach. He began showering light kisses along Thranduil’s shoulders, drawing a sharp gasp from the other elf, and then he pulled Thranduil back against him and pressed hot kisses along his neck. Thranduil chuckled a little and tilted his head back, bringing his hands up to rest over Elrond’s.

     They stayed like that for a long time, Elrond just holding him and Thranduil reveling in the feeling on Elrond’s touch and kisses, and then Elrond let him go and stepped back towards his bed once more. Thranduil followed, and as he lay down on the bed, a hint of nervousness appeared in his eyes. Elrond disappeared for a moment (Thranduil didn’t look to see where), and when he returned he had a small bottle of oil, which he set on his bedside table before laying down beside Thranduil. He reached up to stroke Thranduil’s cheek once more.

     “Why do you look so nervous?” he asked softly. “Are you having second thoughts? This can wait, if you wish.”

     Thranduil shook his head a little. “No…I want this…it’s just been so long, and I suppose I’m…afraid of it hurting again…I…”

     “Shh, Thranduil.” Elrond once more wrapped his arms around the other elf and pulled him close, running his hand up and down Thranduil’s back. “I have no wish to hurt you. Do you trust me?” Thranduil nodded against his shoulder. “Then lay back and relax. Just like by the lake.”

     Thranduil did as Elrond asked, letting his head rest on their soft pillows, his hair spread around him just the way Elrond so loved. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feelings – Elrond’s hands on his body, gently stroking and massaging, exploring, finding all the places and all the ways of touching that made Thranduil moan and squirm in ways he had almost forgotten were possible for him. Elrond’s lips, raining gentle kisses on his chest and stomach, on his thighs, on his hands and arms, and finally capturing his own lips in an urgent kiss that contained all the passion Elrond had had bottled up inside for so long. He felt the bed shift as Elrond knelt between his legs, and felt the other’s hands stroking the insides of his thighs. A pause, the bed shifted again, and for what felt like an eternity, Elrond’s hands weren’t there anymore. Thranduil opened his eyes just in time to see Elrond pouring some of the oil into his hands, being careful to cover his fingers and his palms before reaching down to touch Thranduil. One hand brushed against his hardening member in a barely-there touch that nonetheless sent a spark through Thranduil’s body, and the other dipped lower to rub in light circles around his entrance. He gasped and gripped the bed sheets, twisting them in his hands as he tried to remain relaxed. Elrond just smiled at him a little.

     “How long has it been?” he asked. “Did you ever do this with yourself?”

     Thranduil shook his head. “Once or twice, but it just…it’s not the same…aah, Elrond, more, please?”

     “Soon,” Elrond said. “I promised not to hurt you, and that is a promise I plan to keep.” Thranduil whimpered a little, but Elrond would not give in for several more minutes, and then he pushed his finger into Thranduil as slowly as he could. The blond elf let his eyes flutter shut again and he let out a deep, throaty moan that seemed to echo around Elrond’s bedroom. An even louder moan followed minutes later when Elrond added his second finger, working as gently as he could.

      Thranduil finally let go of the bed sheets and reached up to grip Elrond’s arms. “E-elrond,” he groaned, “please, I can’t take this any longer…I want you…”

     Elrond was only too happy to comply, for he too felt the same desperation as Thranduil, the same yearning to be so close to him once more, and he only paused to use the oil again before beginning to push his hardened length into his beloved. Thranduil gasped and groaned, his back arching and his fingers digging into Elrond’s arms hard enough to leave little crescent-shaped marks where his nails pressed into the other’s skin. But his gasps and groans were obviously those of pleasure, not discomfort, and as Elrond came to rest fully inside of him, Thranduil pulled him close for a deep and needy kiss. They lay together for a moment, completely still except for their kisses, and then Thranduil rocked his hips up against Elrond, just the tiniest bit. Even that small movement drew gasps of pleasure from them both, and with a nod of encouragement from Thranduil, Elrond began to move.

     At first, he kept his thrusts shallow and gentle, not wanting to overwhelm his beloved, but as each one drew more and more whimpers and groans from the lovely golden-haired elf, Elrond began to feel more bold, more willing to give in to his own desires. As his thrusts became deeper, Thranduil’s cries grew louder and more insistent. He clutched at Elrond, holding him close and raising his long legs to wrap around Elrond’s hips. He buried one hand in Elrond’s hair, so soft and silky around his fingers, and eagerly rocked his hips up to meet each of Elrond’s thrusts. They were completely lost in each other – Elrond in Thranduil’s strong embrace, the almost impossible softness of his skin, the heat and tightness of him, the sound of his cries and moans of pleasure; Thranduil reveling in the feeling of Elrond’s weight on top of him, the way his lover stretched him open and touched things within him that no other being had ever touched, the sound of Elrond’s gasps and groans and soft, loving words in his ear. There was no doubt left within either of them that here, with each other, was where they belonged, now and forever.

     Before either of them were truly ready for it, they both felt themselves drawing towards climax. Thranduil nuzzled against Elrond’s cheek, his deep cries of “Yes, Elrond!” urging the other on, and much to their great happiness they came together, Thranduil spilling between them and Elrond holding himself within the other as he came. They were exhausted, and fully spent, and as Elrond pulled away and lay down beside Thranduil, the blond elf simply curled up against him and rested his head on Elrond’s chest. Elrond used a corner of his blanket to clean them off as much as he could, but he too was far too tired for anything else, and he soon just wrapped his arms around Thranduil and drifted off to sleep with him.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     They arrived at breakfast the next morning to find the twins, Legolas, Haldir, and Lindir huddled together at the table, talking quietly but quite seriously amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to be arguing, which both older elves took as a good sign, but when they stepped into the room the five younger elves went perfectly still, like deer that had just noticed a hunter, and stared at Thranduil and Elrond with wide eyes. Lindir was the first to recover, and he straightened up and went back around the table to pull their chairs out for them.

     “Good morning Lord Elrond, Thranduil,” he said. Both elves noticed the stiffness in his voice and posture, and Elrond frowned up at Lindir as he sat down.

     “Lindir,” he said, then turned to eye the four young elves seated across from them. “My sons…Legolas, Haldir. …Is something the matter?”

     The five elves all stared at each other, and finally Elladan said, “Well I’m not going to say anything.”

     “Except that you just did,” Elrohir said.

     Elladan huffed and stabbed an apple with his knife. “You know what I mean,” he said. Even to Thranduil he sounded incredibly put out, and Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Has something happened to disturb you?” the Elvenking asked. “I had thought for sure you would all get along well.”

     “It’s not _us_ ,” Elladan said.

     “It’s _you two_ ,” Legolas added.

     Haldir coughed a little, then said, “Surely Lord Elrond at least knows how…er…thin the walls here are.”

     Lindir leaned down between them so that he was at eye level with them, though he looked at neither Elrond nor Thranduil as he spoke. “And may I remind Lord Elrond that he chose a very open design for Imladris that left _all_ of the windows open.”

     “Yes,” Elladan said dryly. “I would be happy for my sister that she lives in Gondor but I’m not so sure the sounds from your room last night didn’t carry that far.”

     Elrond and Thranduil were stunned, and when they finally dared look at each other, their faces went bright red. Thranduil wanted to melt under the table and actually sank down in his chair a bit. Elrond just shook his head a little. “Well, I…ah…”

     “Congratulations on your…ah…fixed relationship,” Elrohir said. “So what’s for breakfast, I’m famished!”


	41. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for skipping two days of updates, folks. It's been a crazy and stressful week and I just needed a bit of a break. Plus we're coming to the end of all things (*SOB*) and I'm not even done writing the last two chapters yet. So I really need to get on that :p

     The birds were singing, the river was bubbling along cheerfully, and somewhere nearby someone was playing a harp as Thranduil awoke one morning early in his third week at Imladris. Eyes still closed, he smiled a little and reached his hand up to touch Elrond’s cheek, but the backs of his fingers encountered only the soft cloth covering Elrond’s pillow. Thranduil finally opened his eyes and sighed. Sometimes, Elrond’s duties as the Lord of Imladris dragged him from bed before Thranduil awoke, and those mornings were always sad for the blond elf. He did hate waking up alone. But…it was still a beautiful morning, and Elrond was most likely just a room away, in his study. They would see each other soon enough.

     Before Thranduil could even sit up, someone knocked softly on the door. “Come in,” he called, and the door opened to reveal Lindir, balancing a breakfast tray as he entered.

     “Did you sleep well?” the younger elf asked.

     “I did. What’s all this?”

     Lindir set the tray on Elrond’s bedside table as Thranduil sat up, carefully pulling a thin blanket around his otherwise naked body. “Breakfast,” Lindir said. “Lord Elrond asked me to bring it to you before he left this morning.”

     “Left?” Thranduil said, alarm creeping into his voice. He reached for a pastry – something flakey, with fruit jam in the middle – and eyed Lindir. “What do you mean? Where did he go?”

     “The guards spotted a small band of orcs moving east,” Lindir said. “Lord Elrond went to investigate, and possibly fight them off.” Thranduil felt so upset at those words that he nearly dropped his pastry, and Lindir sat on the end of the bed, arranging himself so that he could face Thranduil. “Don’t worry so much!” he said. “It’s perfectly safe. We have been fighting off little bands of orcs like this ever since the Ring was destroyed. They’re masterless and aimless now, and barely have any fight left in them. I myself have killed a few of them. They are no challenge at all for the likes of Lord Elrond or Glorfindel or the twins.”

     “Elladan and Elrohir went with him?” Thranduil asked. Lindir nodded. “What about Legolas and Haldir?”

     Lindir chuckled a little. “They didn’t wake up in time and Lord Elrond specifically told us to leave them be. I sent them off with a lunch basket and a map of the valley just a few minutes ago and I suspect we will not be seeing them again until dinner time.” Thranduil bit into his pastry and huffed, looking around his room as though lost. And without Elrond, that was how he felt here in Imladris. But then Lindir patted his arm, and he turned his blue eyes on the younger elf once more. “Please, Thranduil,” Lindir said softly. “I would not tell you not to worry if I thought there was any reason for concern. And…while I no longer scare as easily as I once did…I am often a bit more cautious than my friends here.” He looked away and smiled wryly. “I suppose that’s the scar I carry. After Eregion, I’m far too cautious.”

     “Understandably so, if you ask me,” Thranduil said. “I seem to remember that you were quite young and impressionable when the fighting happened there.”

     Lindir turned his attention back to Thranduil, the surprise evident on his face. “Do you remember the insignificant details of the lives of all you meet?” he asked.

     “Only those who might be special in some way. And that is no insignificant detail,” Thranduil said. “I…feel as though I should thank you, for staying by Elrond’s side all this time. It seems to me that he has come to trust you greatly.”

     “He has,” Lindir said. “And every day I work hard to earn that trust.” He pushed himself off the bed and turned to the door. “But enough about me. You have some time to yourself until Elrond returns and I should leave you to it. I’m sure you have things you want to do.” And with that, he left.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The one thing that Thranduil would never tire of in Imladris was its peacefulness. Many of the residents had already left for Valinor, and as a result the place was quite silent except for the sounds of nature flowing in from the outdoors. No matter where he went, it seemed that Thranduil could hear the river, smell flowers and leaves, even feel the gentle breeze on his skin. Every so often he did come across other elves, and they always greeted him with respect and cheerfulness. It was so different from Mirkwood, where he had confined himself to his caverns and where greetings had often been stiff and formal, when they were anything more than grim nods. And though he loved Mirkwood, he couldn’t deny that Imladris had grown on him…the longer he stayed, the less he wanted to leave.

     His wanderings through the buildings brought him to a statute, which Elrond had told him once held the shards of Narsil. Now the statue simply held a bundle of fresh flowers on her tray (Lindir had insisted, apparently, telling Elrond that it was silly for the statue to hold nothing). Thranduil noted that the flowers would need changing soon, and wondered if it would be inappropriate for him to dispose of the old ones and collect new ones instead. But before he could do anything, he felt eyes on him. That struck him as odd, since he had seen no other elves nearby. Making certain that his best king face was firmly in place, he slowly turned towards his visitor, allowing the hem of his voluminous robe to twist around his feet as he did.

     The young elleth who stood there simply smiled at him, a soft and sweet smile that reminded him of someone he couldn’t place. She had her hands folded neatly in front of her, and wore the jewels and emblems of Gondor. Indeed, though she looked like an elf, and carried herself like one, he sensed no other typical Elvish traits in her. In any other situation, or without seeing her ears poking through her hair like he could now, he would have assumed her to be a particularly pretty mortal woman.

     “Lindir mentioned that we had guests from Mirkwood,” she said. “I have seen Legolas and Haldir and you are neither of them, so I assume you must be King Thranduil.”

     Thranduil turned his head away and tilted it a bit, studying her out of the corner of his eye. “You must be Arwen,” he said. “Daughter of Lord Elrond and Queen of Gondor.” That explained the smile, then…he had seen a similar one on Galadriel once.

     “I am,” she replied, and as though they had planned it, they bowed to each other. Her eyes sparkled and their surprise coordination made her laugh a little. “I knew Ada had gone to visit you, though none of us knew why,” she said. “But I am surprised to find you here, in Imladris…I had always heard that the Elvenking preferred not to leave his halls.”

     “You heard correctly, but recently things changed. I had…incentive.”

     “Oh?” She tilted her head a little. “May I ask what kind of incentive would pull you from your halls and your forest?”

     Thranduil hesitated. What did she know? What had she guessed? There was no way she had received Elrond’s message in Gondor, since in order to be here now she must have set out long before Thranduil and Elrond had arrived in Imladris. Had she met the messenger on the way and read the letter, and if so, what had Elrond told her? Had Lindir perhaps told her more than simply that there was a visitor from Mirkwood? “Your father,” he finally said. “He kindly invited me to visit again, since it had been a long time since I saw Imladris.”

     Arwen smiled again and took a few steps towards him, until he had to tilt his head down a bit to look at her. “Do you like it here so far?” she asked.

     Thranduil simply nodded and looked around, eyes taking in the details of the architecture and art as he did. “I do,” he said. “When last I was here, it was possible to see the hints of what this place would become, but even my imagination paled compared to the reality.”

     Anything Arwen would have said in reply was interrupted by the sound of horns heralding Elrond’s return. “Ada is returning,” she said. “Shall we go greet him?”

     Thranduil smiled at her and offered his hand, like a proper gentleman. “You will have to guide me, though,” he said. “I do not know where your father usually goes when he comes back from an orc hunt.”

     Arwen chuckled a little and nodded, and before long Thranduil found himself waiting for Elrond and his companions in the same place Elrond had brought him to when they arrived. Lindir and a few others were already there, and they all greeted the two royal elves before turning their attention back to the bridge and gate through which Elrond would arrive. And within moments, the horses and their riders appeared, and then Elrond had returned and Thranduil felt himself relax. Finally, for the first time that day, he knew Elrond was safe.

     The twins managed to dismount first, and Thranduil had to dodge out of the way as they tackled their little sister. He went to stand beside Elrond, who was smiling and laughing as he watched his children. “Have you met my daughter, then?” he asked Thranduil.

     “I have,” he said. He leaned closer and lowered his voice to add, “But I didn’t tell her anything yet.”

     “Good idea. Leave that to me.” Elrond did give Thranduil a quick kiss on the cheek before going to greet Arwen, exclaiming the whole time over how healthy she looked and how surprised he was to see her (“That was the point, Ada, to surprise you!”). Finally, Elrond and Arwen turned to go inside, and Thranduil found himself alone with the twins.

     “Um,” he said, glancing over at them to see if he had their attention. When they turned to him, he continued, “How do you think your sister will take…this? Your father and I?”

     The twins pondered for a moment, then Elladan shrugged and Elrohir shook his head. “Fine, I assume,” Elladan said. “But…she was close to our mother. Even closer than we were. So who knows?”

     Thranduil didn’t find that very comforting at all.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “I never thought I would see you in Imladris again,” Elrond said as he and Arwen wandered through the garden. After a quick break to get out of his armor and into something more comfortable, he had taken her off to see her old favorite spots in her childhood home.

     “I found I missed my Ada and brothers,” she said. “And I wished to come visit you.” Elrond sighed, and she squeezed his arm. “I want to see you more, Ada. Sometimes I think you feel like only you have to suffer because I chose a mortal life…but when you leave for Valinor, as I know you plan to soon, I will never see _you_ again either. Can you understand how I might want to delay our goodbye until then?”

     He sighed again, but nodded and managed to smile at her. “I can,” he said. “And you do have a point. I suppose I should not treat you like my brother…the circumstances are quite different, after all. His life here was long and it was painful for both of us to know that I would outlive him in Arda. Much better to choose a time and place and have a firm goodbye under those circumstances.”

     They walked in silence for a time, simply enjoying the garden and each other’s presence. Then Arwen said, “You seem much better than the last time I saw you, Ada. Healthier and happier. It seems that having a guest has been good for your health.”

     Elrond stopped and looked at her curiously. But if Arwen had already guessed anything, he couldn’t tell just from looking at her. “What do you think of him?” he asked. “You did speak with him before I returned, yes?”

     “He seems nice enough,” she said. “It’s not as though we had time for much of a conversation though. But…I suppose he isn’t much like I expected. I thought the king of a place as dark as Mirkwood would be dark himself, and yet, he seemed pleasant. He reminds me of Grandmother and Grandfather in some ways – it’s so obvious he has seen and been through much, and yet, he still smiles.”

     He smiled at Arwen and hugged her warmly, kissing her hair and giving her back a fatherly pat before he let her go. “Arwen…I need to speak with you about something. Your brothers already know, and I had sent a messenger to ask you here so we could discuss the matter in person…you must have missed him on your way here.” He made his way to one of the many benches in the garden and settled onto it, patting the free spot beside him. Arwen joined him and folded her hands in her lap as she watched him. “Do you remember a conversation we had once, many years ago, when your mother was still here, and I mentioned an admirer from Lindon? The one who gave me the gold heart-like brooch I sometimes wear.” She nodded. Elrond took a deep breath and let it out in a great rush. This was going to be the hard part. “Well…that admirer was Thranduil. We knew each other there for a long time, before he went to join his father in what is now Mirkwood. We…were quite close, actually.”

     “You must have been, for him to give you jewelry,” she said. “Does this have something to do with why you never seemed very affectionate with Nana?”

     “I was a horrible husband, wasn’t I? You all noticed that,” he muttered. Arwen reached out to take his hands, and for a long while he simply stared down at how his hands rested in hers…In that moment, she reminded him very much of her mother. It was the sort of thing Celebrian would have tried to do to help him through a difficult time. He raised his eyes to her face and sought out her gaze. “I liked your mother, Arwen, but we were never as close as we should have been. The marriage was her idea, not mine, and I know she had stronger feelings for me than I did for her. I agreed to it anyway, because I liked her and enjoyed her company…but always my heart was elsewhere, with someone else.”

     “Thranduil,” she said, and Elrond felt a bit of relief that there seemed to be no judgment or disappointment in her voice.

     “Yes. We are soul mates, Arwen. We have a bond that could never be broken, by anything. His father forced us apart, otherwise things might be very different now, but we have been lucky recently…we have been able to meet again and rekindle our relationship.”

   “So you two are…” she said, but her voice trailed off and she didn’t finish the thought.

     Elrond sighed and looked down at their hands once more. “You are upset,” he said.

     “No,” Arwen insisted. “I’m surprised, Ada. And I suppose a little but upset, because I grew up thinking you loved Nana and just had odd ways of showing it. But you have seemed so lonely since she left…” She reached up to touch his cheek and brushed a few stray strands out of his face. “I do fear you’ll forget her now. But I don’t think I could ever be upset with you for loving someone. The fear of disappointing my loved ones with my choice of partner is a fear I know all too well, after all.”

     Elrond smiled at her, though it was a sad smile. “I should never have given you as much trouble over Aragorn as I did,” he said. “But I fear my children suffering the loneliness I have.”

     She squeezed his hands again and kissed his cheek. “Don’t fear such things, Ada. I have Aragorn and my brothers will always have each other, even if they never find partners. I don’t think we will feel that loneliness. But what about you now? You have Thranduil here…what do you intend to do? What will come of it?”

     “That I still cannot tell you,” he said. “For now, we know only that our feelings are true. We have not even decided if he will ever return to Mirkwood as King, or when such a return would happen.”

     “Best not to rush it,” Arwen agreed. “Take your time to decide.”

     “I would have you spend some time with him, to get to know him,” Elrond said. “He is never going to replace your mother, and neither Thranduil nor I expect you to love him like a parent, but I would be very pleased if my children could at least have cordial relationships with him.”

     Arwen nodded. “I can manage that, I believe. Aragorn may not approve so much…”

     “I am certain that in time, he will come around,” Elrond replied.


	42. Chapter 38

     Not long after Arwen’s arrival, Legolas and Haldir decided to return to Mirkwood to relieve Galion of his regent’s duties and to finish preparing for their wedding. They had set a date and, using the resources available to them in Elrond’s library, had even hammered out a plan for a ceremony they both liked, and now they had to take care of the other details. Elrond offered to have invitations made and to use his own messengers to distribute them, an offer which Legolas and Haldir were happy to accept. Elrond made sure that the invitations going to the Shire included a note indicating that, if the hobbits left early enough, they could stay with him in Imladris and then travel with his company to Mirkwood for the wedding.

     With Legolas and Haldir gone and all three of Elrond’s children home, Thranduil began to feel a bit outnumbered and rather like an interloper. So far, the three were pleasant but a bit cool to him, and he had no idea what to make of it or what they truly thought of him. He soon took to eating dinner with Elrond and the younger elves, then excusing himself and walking in the garden until Elrond came to find him. He didn’t mind, really. It was nice to have some time to himself, to think about things and try to come to some decision of what he would do after the wedding. And of course, when Elrond came to find him, it was nice to just walk through the starlit gardens with him and talk about their future together.

     So he was rather surprised on this particular night when he looked up to see not Elrond, but Elladan and Arwen approaching him.

     “So odd to see you with your brother, Elladan,” he said.

     The two younger elves stared at him in obvious surprise, and when Elladan finally found his voice again, he said, “You can tell us apart!”

     “Of course,” Thranduil said, his confusion incredibly obvious. “Should I not be able to do so?”

     “Only our parents and I ever seemed to have that ability,” Arwen said. “And perhaps also Lindir, since he spent much time with them when they were children.”

     Thranduil blinked at them and shook his head a little. “But it seems so obvious to me…Well, in any event, were you looking for me? Or have we just happened to meet in the garden?”

   “A chance meeting,” Elladan said, “but a pleasant one.” He glanced at Arwen, who gave him a small nod. “Ada is so much happier than we’ve seen him since our mother left,” he added. “And we know you are the reason. …Elrohir is still skeptical, I think, but Arwen and I…we have moved past that.”

     “I’m happy to hear that,” Thranduil said, and he truly was relieved. The sound of footsteps interrupted them, and Thranduil turned just in time to see Elrond round a corner in the path. The two elves smiled warmly at each other, Elladan and Arwen quite forgotten for the moment, and as Elrond stopped by Thranduil’s side they melted into each other’s arms. Thranduil noticed the younger elves again when they parted, and though his cheeks turned pink when he realized they had been watching, he clutched Elrond’s hand and refused to let it go.

     “I see someone is having a party and forgot to invite me,” Elrond teased. Thranduil and his children laughed, and Elrond pulled his hand away from Thranduil’s so he could wrap his arm around the other’s waist instead. “Mind if I steal him away?” he asked Elladan and Arwen, who both told him that of course they didn’t mind. They all said good night to each other, and Elrond guided Thranduil off into the garden. As they left, they leaned in for a tender kiss before turning forward to watch where they were going.

     Arwen watched them go, then turned to her brother. “It’s so strange to me, to think how they could have survived all those long centuries apart when their love for each other is so clear now.”

     “It hurt them both terribly, I think,” Elladan said. “I hear bitterness in Thranduil’s voice when he talks about his father or the times he and Ada were apart…and Ada…” He sighed. “I can’t even imagine.”

     “Do you think they plan to marry?” Arwen asked him.

     Elladan frowned a little. “Could they? They were both married already. It would be unusual, to say the least.”

     “As is every other aspect of their relationship,” Arwen said. “But I see your point.” She shook her head a little. “Come, let’s go find Elrohir. I want to spend more time with you both before I have to return to Gondor.”

 

***   ***   ***

     Arwen remained in Imladris for a month, and during that time, she went out of her way to observe Thranduil and her father as often as possible. Having grown up with mischievous twin brothers made it all the easier, as she knew all of the paths to take and places to hide where she could watch without being seen. And with each passing day, what she saw made her more and more convinced that Elrond and Thranduil should have been together all along.

     The day that really hammered the point home, for her, was the day she went to her father’s study to let him know that she did indeed have to return to Gondor by the end of the week. The doors were wide open, so she didn’t even bother knocking before walking in, but she stopped short when she saw her father and Thranduil. Elrond was sitting at his desk, papers spread before him, with Thranduil sitting on the edge of the desk and twisted around so he could see the papers as well. Elrond had one hand rested on Thranduil’s thigh and was holding a document in the other, so that they could both read it, and they were discussing it in soft voices. They looked up when Arwen cleared her throat and Thranduil slid off the desk to stand more properly at Elrond’s side.

     “You’re clearly busy, I won’t interrupt long,” she said. “But Ada, I wanted to remind you that I must return to Gondor at week’s end.”

     Elrond simply sighed and nodded. “Of course, Arwen. I wish you could stay longer…”

   “As do I. But I have my duties at Aragorn’s side. Besides, we’ll see you in Mirkwood soon enough.” The older elves gave her a startled look, so she added, “For the wedding! Legolas invited Aragorn, so of course I’m going as well.”

     Thranduil smiled and Elrond laughed. “Ah! How could I forget? Let me finish the accounting and then we can spend the day together.”

     Arwen’s eyes darted to Thranduil, who was watching her, head tilted just a bit as always. “If Thranduil doesn’t object,” she said. “I would hate to take you away from your other visitor.”

   “Of course I don’t object,” Thranduil said. “I understand Elrond’s feelings towards his children.”

   “And I’ll see plenty of him later anyway,” Elrond replied. “Just a few more minutes, I promise.”

     Arwen turned to go, though she carefully peeked back into the room before disappearing down the hall, and saw Thranduil begin to rub Elrond’s shoulders as they returned to the paperwork. Elrond leaned back against him and Thranduil leaned forward a bit more, wrapping his arms around Elrond so that his hands rested on the other’s chest. A bit of Thranduil’s hair fell over his shoulder and mingled with Elrond’s much darker hair. Arwen thought it was a touching sight, but the older elves didn’t seem to notice the mingling of their hair.

     The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and she spent most of it with her father, talking about little things and wandering the halls and gardens of Imladris. Their day ended on a bench in the garden, one they had often visited in her childhood and where she had vivid memories of watching the fireflies in the summer. For the longest time after they sat, Elrond was silent, holding Arwen’s hand in both of his own. She too remained silent. It was the best way to get him to speak and share his emotions.

     “You know that your happiness is also _my_ happiness, yes?” he finally asked her, voice raspy with the struggle to contain his tears.

     “I know, Ada,” she said. “But I also know my choice hurt you…I wish it could be different.”

     “Do you regret your choice?” he asked.

     Her eyes met his, and she wondered what he wanted to hear from her. Of course, he would never hear anything but the truth – how could she ever lie to her beloved father? – but she feared that the truth would hurt him more. “No, Ada,” she said. “I have never regretted it, and I never will.”

   “Good.” Despite the sadness in his eyes, his voice was firm, and he squeezed her hand tightly. “Arwen, you know I wish you would come to Valinor with me. But…when I am honest with myself…that would hurt me too, for I know that you would have left behind your dreams to come with me and I could not have that. I have seen the results of overbearing fathers and shattered dreams. I would never wish that on any of my children, not even for my own happiness.”

     She smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Ada,” she whispered. “It means so much to hear you say so.” Arwen sighed and pulled her hand from his, then stood and smoothed her gown. “I’m afraid I must go to bed though,” she said. “One of the difficulties of mortality is that I tire more easily now. I hope you don’t mind.”

     Elrond managed a strained smile and shook his head. “No, of course not, I understand. Go on, then, and sleep well. I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.”

     She nodded and disappeared down the garden path, but the sound of footsteps off to her side on a path hidden from her view by bushes and trees drew her attention. She waited until she was in the shadow of one of the covered archways leading to the more indoor areas of the house, then turned back to see if she could tell who else had been in the garden. There was her father, sitting on the bench, and there standing above him was Thranduil. For a moment the scene looked almost sinister, with Elrond hunched over and the Elvenking towering over him, voluminous robe making him look larger than usual and his hair and skin glowing softly in the moonlight. But then, with the greatest of grace and dignity, Thranduil sank to the bench beside Elrond and put his arms around the dark-haired elf, drawing him into a warm and comforting embrace. Elrond buried his face against Thranduil’s shoulder and clung to him as though his very life depended on it. Arwen had never known her father to be that way with anyone, and to see him that way with the Mirkwood visitor only hammered home for her just how deeply they loved and trusted each other.

     Arwen watched just long enough to see her father finally raise his head, and for Thranduil to reach up and brush Elrond’s cheeks with his thumbs. He smiled, and tilted his head as he leaned closer to the Lord of Imladris, and Arwen turned away from them to go to her room. She would not invade their privacy any longer. She had already learned all she needed.

***   ***   ***

 

     The end of her visit home came far too early for both Arwen and Elrond, and on the day she left, it took all of Elrond’s strength not to beg her to stay. He helped her pack the last of her things and personally prepared her horse for her, then (along with the twins and Thranduil) followed her to the courtyard from which she would leave. Her entourage was already there, waiting patiently, and a few Imladris elves scurried about putting the finishing touches on the party’s supplies for the journey.

     Arwen hugged her brothers goodbye first, and they asked her several times if she was _sure_ they shouldn’t join her escort back to Gondor. She reassured them that the journey would be safe, and they reluctantly agreed to let her go on her own. But they insisted that when the time came for her to return to Gondor from Mirkwood (after Legolas’s wedding), that time they would escort her and neither she nor Aragorn would be able to stop them. Arwen cheerfully agreed to that, and they finally allowed her to move on.

     She stopped in front of Thranduil and smiled, then, much to everyone’s surprise, she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. His mouth dropped open in shock, and she laughed and gave his freshly-kissed cheek a quick pat. “Look after my father,” she said softly. “He will always insist that he needs nobody to watch over him, but I would feel better if he had someone like you to do the job anyway.”

     “Your father looks after me more than I do him,” Thranduil said. “But I promise to do my best. I will see you in Mirkwood for my son’s wedding, I take it?”

     “You will,” she confirmed. “Aragorn will be excited to hear a date has finally been set. He has been friends with Legolas for a long time and often hoped to see this day.”

     Thranduil just smiled and bowed his head to her, and finally, she returned to Elrond’s side. Just as she had expected of him, he was fighting back tears.

     “Arwen…” he began, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

     “Don’t even ask things you know are impossible,” she said. “But always remember that I love you, whether I live here or in Gondor.” Her eyes darted to Thranduil, and she leaned closer to her father so she could whisper. “Thranduil loves you, Ada, and I think you love him more than you have ever loved anyone other than your children…why not consider marrying him?”

     Elrond frowned at her. “Because I was married to your mother, and he was married as well,” he said. “It would be highly unusual for any elf to remarry.”

     “It is also highly unusual for two ellyn to wed, or even fall in love, and I grew up in a world where the Elvenking refused to leave his halls. And yet, all three unusual things have come to pass or will do so very shortly,” she said. “Perhaps you do not even need an official wedding, just…something small, for only the two of you, as a symbolic gesture. I only ask you to consider it, Ada. I want you to be happy too.”

     Elrond smiled and hugged her tightly, and for a few moments it seemed that someone would have to pry them apart. But he finally let her go and helped her on to her horse. “I promise,” he said. “I will consider it. Now, have a safe journey home, dear one. I’ll see you soon in Mirkwood.”    


	43. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

 

     “Have you decided what you will do after the wedding?”

     Elrond’s voice snapped Thranduil out of his dreamy state, and he turned his gaze back to his breakfast companion. With Legolas, Haldir, and Arwen gone and the twins off on morning patrol, Thranduil and Elrond had a rare meal to themselves. Thranduil had taken the opportunity to admire everything around him – the scenery of Imladris, the lovely sunrise, the way the warm light of said sunrise shone on Elrond’s dark hair and pale skin – and he had allowed himself to get lost in thoughts of how beautiful everything here really was. As much as he loved his Mirkwood (perhaps he would be able to call it Greenwood again soon), more and more he felt a deep sense of regret that he hadn’t been able to spend more time in Imladris. There was a time when he would have happily given up Mirkwood to be here.

     His eyes met Elrond’s and he shook his head slowly. “I…no. I haven’t made any decisions.”

     “Can you at least tell me what you’re considering?” Elrond asked. He plucked a blackberry from a bowl and popped it into his mouth.

     Thranduil sighed a little and let his gaze wander back to the scenery. It was so peaceful here…but even here, his heart was restless. “I have found much happiness since you came back into my life, Elrond,” he said softly, reaching across the table to take the other elf’s hand. “But I’m still so very tired…exhausted…sometimes it feels like every ounce of life and energy is draining from me and it’s a struggle to even wake up in the morning. I fear that I am fading, and if I’m not fading now then I soon will be.” He pursed his lips as though considering these things for the first time. “I need to sail for Valinor,” he said. “There is no other way if I want to avoid fading.”

     Elrond nodded, though his face was a mask of sadness. “I understand,” he said, his voice thick as he fought his own emotions. “I often feel the same way these days. So you will sail immediately? I suppose we will see each other in Valinor someday, then…”

     “I would rather sail _with_ you,” Thranduil said. “We have spent enough time apart, don’t you think? It seems like a shame to separate again…when do you think you would want to leave?”

     Elrond drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table and furrowed his brow in concentration. “That I do not quite know,” he said. “I do have things to take care of here, things to finish. It could take two or three more years, I suppose. Could you wait that long? If it’s a matter of your health, I could handle a separation. I would rather lose you to Valinor for a few short years than lose you to fading forever.”

     Now it was Thranduil’s turn to consider things. One the one hand, the idea of sailing immediately after the wedding was appealing, and if he was completely honest with himself he had to admit that he wasn’t sure if he could make it in Middle-Earth for even one year more. But for Elrond, and the chance to sail with him, he could at least try. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Two or three years sounds like it might be pushing it for me. But for you I can try. …Would you want me to come and stay here, in Imladris?”

     “Would you be willing?” 

     Thranduil found that he didn’t even need to think about his answer. “Of course,” he said. “Elrond, I love it here with you, and I find peace here. Mirkwood has been my home for so long, and it will be hard to let it go…but Legolas will be a wonderful king. Haldir too. I can feel safe leaving it in their hands.”

     “Then that will be our plan,” Elrond said. “I will go back to Mirkwood with you soon, to finish preparing for the wedding and to help you put your affairs in order there, and then we will both come back here, settle my business, and sail for Valinor.” He sighed a little and looked out over the valley, watching the river wind its way past far below them. “A pity that Middle-Earth couldn’t have been a happier place for us both…I wonder if we’ll find the peace and happiness we both want in Valinor.”

     “We’ll be together,” Thranduil pointed out. “That will help quite a bit, I think.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     It was only a week after that conversation when the two packed their things and left for the return trip to Mirkwood, after extracting promises from the twins that they and the rest of the household would set out soon after and arrive in time for the wedding. The trip was peaceful and uneventful, though also a little tiring as Thranduil insisted on making it home to Mirkwood as quickly as possible. He had a wedding to help plan (unless Legolas and Haldir had finished already) and things to pack.

     They met some scouts on the border, two of whom ran ahead to alert Legolas that his father had returned and the rest of whom joined Elrond and Thranduil to escort them the rest of the way. By the time they made it to the halls, Legolas and Haldir had come to the gates to meet them, and Legolas threw himself into his father’s arms.

     “I’ve missed you, Ada,” he said against the older elf’s shoulder.

     “Ah, my son, I’ve missed you too,” Thranduil replied, closing his eyes as he squeezed his son close. “We have much to talk about. How have things been here?”

     “Uneventful. With the War of the Ring ended and Sauron gone, the few spiders that are left are much easier to defeat. We haven’t even seen any in days. I think we may have killed the last of them. And if not, we’re quite close to doing so.”

     Thranduil smiled and let go of his son long enough to hug Haldir as well, then put an arm around each of their shoulders and guided them back into the halls. “Come, let’s have something to eat, and talk. I want to hear all about your wedding plans, and you probably want to hear all about mine for afterwards as well.”

     They spent the rest of the day together, exchanging news. Legolas and Haldir shared the latest plans for their wedding (but refused to give any details about the ceremony, which they had completed and wanted to be a surprise). Elrond shared what little there was to tell of their uneventful trip from Imladris.  Thranduil cast a bit of a shadow over the day with the news that he intended to move to Imladris immediately after the wedding, and to sale for Valinor shortly thereafter.

     “I had thought we might have more time together…” Legolas said, gripping his father’s hand tightly in his own.

     “You and I have had all of your life until now,” Thranduil said. “And we’ll have all of it in Valinor, too.”

     “I meant the four of us, as a family,” Legolas said. “And maybe Elladan and Elrohir, and Rumil and Orophin too. Even Arwen, when she could join us.”

     Thranduil smiled and shook his head a little. “Arwen aside, we’ll all see each other in Valinor, Legolas. Unless you don’t plan to sail…”

      “I plan to sail,” Legolas reassured him. “I don’t know when…the timing will depend on many things, like Haldir’s feelings on it, but I absolutely plan to sail.”

      “Then stop worrying so much!” Thranduil said, and he chuckled as he kissed his son’s forehead. “Stop worrying about that and finish planning your wedding. Now, I have a few thoughts…”

      The conversation wore on well into the night, with Legolas and Thranduil bantering about last-minute ideas (Legolas turned down his father’s offer to have special clothes made several times in that night alone). Haldir eventually dozed off with his head on Legolas’s shoulder, and Elrond rested his head in Thranduil’s lap to nap while he waited for the father and son pair to finish their conversation. Finally, though, they shook their respective partners awake once more and everyone headed to bed, feeling very optimistic about the upcoming months in Mirkwood.

     Though neither Thranduil nor Elrond mentioned it to the other, all the talk of Legolas and Haldir’s impending wedding had made them both think of their own weddings – the ones they had had (whether they wanted them or not), and the one they had both secretly longed for but never gotten the chance to have. Both felt attracted to the idea of giving marriage a second try, but each felt that the other had showed no interest, and besides, Elvish custom was quite clear on the inappropriateness of remarriage…

     But Elrond, steeped in the lore and history of their people as he was, also knew that remarriages had happened in the past, and was quite sure that both Celebrian’s and Dulinnel’s actions in freeing their husbands from their bonds had made remarriage possible. And Thranduil felt that he had had quite enough of customs, traditions, and others’ expectations of a proper life to last him for many Ages to come. And yet, despite all the progress they had made recently, neither could bear to even bring the subject up to the other, for fear of rejection. As they curled up in bed and held each other, each drifted off into a lovely dream of a future in which they were finally married, and all was well.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Galion had always known that the Oropherion family trait of worrying about pretty clothes and looking great in them would show up in Legolas sooner or later. Try as the young prince might to make everyone think he really didn’t care about fancy fabrics and shiny baubles, or that he would rather be in _anything_ but dressy clothes, he really did clean up well and seemed to relish it. Besides, he was constantly fussing with his hair and being so picky about his damn braids. He claimed they were entirely practical, helping to keep his hair out of his face during battle, but Galion saw right through that. So it didn’t really surprise the butler when he came into Legolas’s room one morning months after Thranduil returned and discovered that the prince had literally every piece of clothing he possessed in a messy pile on his bed, and that he was complaining rather loudly that not a single piece of it would do.

     He did, however, think that the prince could have timed it better. The morning of _his own wedding,_ when he had spent the past few months constantly turning down Thranduil’s offers to have something special made for him, was really not the best time to have a fashion meltdown.

     “This is a _disaster,_ Galion,” Legolas groused as he scowled at the pile on his bed. “I can’t wear any of this!”

     “I don’t see why not,” Galion said. He reached into the pile and pulled out the silvery-white outfit Legolas had worn in Gondor, when his friend Aragorn had married. “This is perfectly suitable, and you looked quite handsome in it the last time you wore it.”

     “Yes, the last time I wore it, to _someone else’s wedding._ I can’t wear it for mine too!”

     Galion sighed and put that outfit down, then picked a similar one in a lovely pale green. “Well, what’s wrong with this one? I seem to remember you wore this for the winter feast last year…”

     “Yes, exactly, I’ve already worn it!” Legolas flopped down face-first onto the pile of clothes on his bed. “It’s hopeless,” he said, voice muffled by the clothes.

     “Well yes, if you take that attitude,” Galion said. “If you wanted something to wear that you had never worn before, you should have accepted your father’s offer to have something made.”

     Legolas groaned and rolled over. “But it’s too late for that now…”

     “Then you had better pick something, because as much as I’m sure your future husband would appreciate it, you will never be allowed to marry in the nude,” Galion replied. Legolas just scowled at him, so he sat down beside the prince and touched his shoulder. “Come now, Legolas, this isn’t like you. It’s more like something your father would do, really. What’s really troubling you?”

     “I…” Legolas sighed. “I guess I didn’t expect to feel like this on my wedding day, that’s all. I feel like it’s so special, I should have something special for it, and all I have is stuff I’ve used before. Sometimes for other peoples’ weddings.”

     “I believe Haldir is wearing his best armor,” Galion said. “I’m sure he has worn that before. Does that matter to you?” Legolas shook his head. “Then why do you think it would matter to him?”

     “I suppose it wouldn’t…it’s not rational, but I feel that way anyway. Also…” He sat up and turned a sad gaze to Galion. “I feel like Ada was just looking for a chance to do something special for me before he and Elrond leave, and I denied him the chance.”

     “You don’t think helping you two set up your wedding is special enough?” Galion asked, raising an eyebrow.

     “Sure, but it’s not just for _me._ The clothes would have been, though.”

     Galion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He would be putting these little fires out forever, it seemed. Finally, he looked up at Legolas and rested his hands on the younger elf’s shoulders. “Listen. I’m going to go speak with your father and see if we can find a last-minute solution. But just in case we can’t, I want you to pick something from your own closet to wear. I really do think the ones I suggested are the best options. And trust me, young prince, nobody is going to be thinking of where you last wore your clothes. Give that some thought while you decide, and I shall return.” He jumped up and slipped from the room before Legolas could protest, and within minutes he was in Thranduil’s room, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and explaining the situation in great detail to Thranduil while Elrond helped him with his robe.

     Thranduil shook his head. “It’s too late to _make_ something for him, Galion, what did you think I could do for him?”

     “I don’t know…He might just feel better after talking to you,” Galion said.

      “Maybe Elladan or Elrohir brought something he could borrow,” Elrond said. “They’re about the same size, aren’t they? If he is so against wearing his own clothes, he should ask a friend.”

     “…Or go through my closet,” Thranduil said as a sudden inspiration hit him.

     “You’re taller than he is,” Elrond said.

     “But otherwise not so different,” Thranduil replied. Elrond finished with his robe, so he turned and crossed the room to a set of wooden doors set into one of the walls. “He has worn some of my things before.” He pulled the doors open and retrieved a lit candle before stepping into the room beyond, Elrond and Galion close on his heels.

     Elrond stopped short and stared around the room, which was rather cavernous and completely lacking in windows. The walls were lined with row after row of long, narrow wooden boxes. “What…Thranduil, what is this place?”

     “My extra closet,” Thranduil replied dryly. “I use it to store things I no longer wear but can’t bear to get rid of.” He flashed Elrond a grin. “And it’s a good thing, too, or Legolas would be out of luck. Now, let’s see, where did I…” He moved along the rows, holding the candle close to the boxes so he could see them well enough to identify them, then gave a satisfied nod. “Here we are. Can one of you hold this, please?” Elrond helpfully took the candle from him and Thranduil pulled the box from its spot, then carefully carried it out to the bedroom. “I’m sure he’ll look good in this. I’m not sure it’s to his taste, but…it’s worth a try.”

     “Do we get to see which one it is?” Galion asked.

     Thranduil pondered the question, then shook his head. “Let it be a surprise for everyone,” he said. “Well, except me I guess. Elrond, Galion can help you finish dressing, I’m going to go to Legolas.” Elrond and Galion just nodded and set to work on the remainder of Elrond’s outfit, while Thranduil and his mystery box went down the hall to Legolas’s chambers.

     When Thranduil poked his head in, Legolas was standing in front of his mirrors, holding up each of the robes Galion had suggested in turn as he tried to choose one. When he noticed Thranduil, he gave his father a sheepish grin. “I didn’t think this through well enough, Ada.”

     “That’s okay, I’m here to rescue you,” Thranduil said. “I…don’t know if you’ll like this at all,” he continued as he set the box down on Legolas’s bed and unhooked the latches holding it shut, “but this outfit has a lot of good memories for me, and if you like it, I would be honored to have you wear it today and add the memory of your wedding to it.”

     Legolas tossed his clothed back on the bed. “Well, let’s see it then!”

     Thranduil chuckled. “First thing’s first. Get some leggings and boots on, and then close your eyes and hold your arms out.” Legolas did as asked, picking some gray leggings and matching boots, then went to stand in front of his mirror with his eyes squeezed shut and his arms held out to the sides.

     Thranduil opened the box and pulled out the robe, along with the smaller box tucked inside with it. He gave the robe a quick check to make sure it was still in good condition, then carried it across the room and carefully draped it over his son’s shoulders. Within a few short minutes, the robe was successfully on, and Thranduil was relieved to note that it was only a tiny bit long on Legolas, but otherwise fit him well.

     “Can I open my eyes yet?” Legolas asked.

     “No, not done yet,” Thranduil replied. He looked around until he spotted Legolas’s hairbrush on his nightstand, and set to work unbraiding and brushing his son’s hair.

     “What are you doing to my hair?” Legolas asked, sounding more than a little worried.

     “Brushing it,” Thranduil replied, and he laughed at the little scowl Legolas gave him. “Trust me, this outfit comes with a circlet that will look much better with your hair down and smooth.” Legolas sighed a little, but he stopped frowning and didn’t protest more as Thranduil brushed his hair out. Finally, even that was over, and Thranduil returned to the bed to retrieve the circlet from its box. He carefully settled it onto Legolas’s head and stepped back for a moment to admire his handiwork. “Alright,” he finally said. “Open your eyes.”

     Legolas finally did, and when he saw his reflection in the mirror for the first time his jaw dropped. There he was, in his father’s midnight-blue robe with the star-like jewels and embroidery, and his incredible mithril circlet. “Where…How did you…is that _mithril_?”

     Thranduil laughed and hugged him from behind, resting his chin on Legolas’s shoulder. “It is. Early second age mithril, at that,” he said. Legolas just tilted his head curiously. “You want to know the memories attached to this outfit?” Thranduil asked. When Legolas nodded, he said, “I wore this to one of the winter feasts in Lindon. My father had this all made for me just for that feast. It was amazing that year, so many people and beautiful music and all the delicious food…and Elrond. We were only just starting to be a couple then. My father didn’t know about it yet, and everything was new for us…and that night, we danced together for the first time, and he gave me that silver and emerald ring I wear all the time now, and…we kissed. First time ever for both of us. That was a very happy night for me…and so is this one. So! Do you like it? Do you want to wear it? You don’t have to wear any of it if you don’t want to, you know, I won’t be hurt.”

     Legolas stared at his reflection for a few more moments, face twisting a little as he fought back tears, then he squirmed around to give his father a proper hug and buried his face against Thranduil’s shoulder. “Yes Ada, I want to wear it,” he said between sniffles.

     “Ah, Legolas, there’s no need to cry,” Thranduil said. But as he hugged his son, he too was fighting tears.

     They didn’t have long to spend like that. Just as Legolas was finally starting to get a hold of himself again, Galion rapped sharply on the door and called, “Legolas! It’s time, we have to go now, so I hope you found something to wear!”

     “I-I did, just one more minute!” Legolas called back. He finally let go of Thranduil and took one last look at himself in the mirror. “Are you ready for this?”

     Thranduil stroked his hair and nodded. “Of course not,” he said. “but I don’t think any father ever really is ready to see his son go off and make his own life like this. We all kind of wish our little babies stayed that way forever.”

     Legolas nodded and gave him a shaky but otherwise cheerful smile. “I’ll see you after the ceremony, Ada.”

     Thranduil nodded in return and gave his son one last quick kiss on his forehead before leaving. Galion and Elrond were both waiting for him in the hall.

     Elrond offered him a handkerchief. “I thought you would need that later,” he said, “but it looks like you could use it now.”

     “I’m fine, just…you know… realizing he really is all grown up, that’s all.” Thranduil smiled and held out a hand to Elrond. “Let’s go.”


	44. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

 

     By the time Thranduil and Elrond arrived at the outdoor pavilion that had been set up for the wedding, it had begun to snow. The guests had been provided with thick furs just in case that happened, and now many of them (especially the non-Elvish guests) were huddled under furs as they chatted with each other and awaited the wedding. An expectant hush fell over the crowd as Thranduil and Elrond arrived, exchanging nods and smiles with guests as they moved up the aisle to their seats in the very front row, but then the chatter picked up with a particularly excited air as the two settled into their seats. Elrond draped a fur over their shoulders and Thranduil leaned against him, glancing past him to the guests on the other side of the aisle. Many Elves had come from Lothlorien to be with Haldir on his special day, Celeborn and Galadriel among them. The Lord and Lady of Lorien were staring at Thranduil and Elrond now, Celeborn’s mouth opened in surprise and Galadriel eyeing them with a knowing smile.

     “Look, it’s your in-laws,” Thranduil muttered. “Do they know about us?”

     “Most likely, yes, and if they didn’t they do now,” Elrond replied. “I’m sure Galadriel figured it out in any event. Arwen may even have told her.”

     “Celeborn seems…displeased, or at least confused,” Thranduil said. A moment later, Galadriel elbowed her husband, who turned to her and listened as she spoke to him far too quietly for anyone else to hear. When their little conversation finished, he turned to face Elrond and Thranduil once more and favored them with a solemn nod. Elrond returned the nod, and as his in-laws (former in-laws?) went back to their own private conversation, he turned to Thranduil and sighed in relief.

     “Crisis averted,” he said.

     Thranduil chuckled, then looked up as the last few participants in the wedding other than the soon-to-be spouses arrived. Rumil, Orophin, and a small gaggle of other marchwardens from Lothlorien appeared and took their places beside where Haldir would stand, followed almost immediately by the surviving members of the Fellowship taking up positions beside Legolas’s place. Only Gandalf did not join them, but that was because he was officiating and instead stood under the carved and greenery-covered archway where the two were to be married. Gimli eyed Thranduil suspiciously, but at a nudge from Aragon he gave the Elvenking a polite nod and turned his attention elsewhere. An expectant hush fell over the crowd, and it wasn’t until Elrond squeezed his hand that Thranduil realized he had been holding his breath right along with everyone else.

     Music started, soft music characteristic of that typical in Lorien, and all eyes turned to the end of the aisle that emerged from the holly-decorated gates at the small entrance to the Halls to watch Haldir make his appearance. He wore a fine cape of heavy red velvet over his best armor, which had been polished so that it gleamed as though it was brand new. The cape, held in place at his shoulder with a brooch of finest gold and perfect red and yellow jewels, was long enough to just brush against the light layer of snow on the path to the archway. When he arrived at the archway, he stopped to give small bows to Galadriel and Celeborn on his side and to Thranduil and Elrond on the other, then turned to face Gandalf, his brothers, and his friends. He reached out to take Rumil’s hand as he waited, and Orophin gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulder. For the most part, Haldir looked straight ahead, but whenever he turned his head the right way, Thranduil and Elrond could see that his expression was a mix of nerves of pure joy.

      The music faded away, then began again almost as quickly as it had ended, though now the tune was an exuberant one of the kind most common in Mirkwood. All eyes turned once more to the gates separating the outdoor area from the depths of Mirkwood’s halls, and an awed gasp rippled through the crowd as Legolas appeared. The light sparkled on his circlet and the decorations on his robe, surrounding him in a shimmering rainbow halo, and even in the daylight his Elvish glow was apparent to all who were present. He looked simultaneously terrified and deliriously happy as he made his way along the path towards Haldir, who for the moment had his back stoically turned to the gathered crowd, though the way he shifted from foot to foot belied his impatience. He and Legolas had agreed that their first sight of each other’s faces today would be under the archway, when they turned towards each other and exchanged their rings and vows. But now that the moment had finally come, Haldir simply couldn’t wait. Legolas had only made it half-way up the path before Haldir turned. His mouth opened in an O of surprise when he caught sight of the Mirkwood prince, and within moments he dashed from his spot and back down the path to where his beloved stood. Without any warning at all he swept Legolas up in his arms, twirling him around as Legolas clung to his shoulders and buried his face against Haldir’s neck. All around them, their guests and loved ones clapped and cheered for them in clear approval of Haldir’s decision. When Haldir finally set him down once more, they clutched each other’s hands and had eyes only for one another as they made their way to the archway.

      As the two younger elves stood together, vowing to love and protect one another for all of their days, Thranduil found his mind wandering back to his own wedding and the vows he couldn’t even remember. All he could remember was a day that should have been joyful and was anything but, and all the pain that had come from it…but, he realized, wonderful things had come from it too. As Haldir slipped a gold ring on Legolas’s finger, gazing deeply into his eyes and making the last of his promises with all the passion and earnestness of one with absolutely no doubts about his actions, it suddenly dawned on Thranduil that nothing about this day would be happening now if it wasn’t for his own wedding all those centuries ago. And as Legolas and Haldir exchanged their first kiss as newly-wed elves, the balance of his bittersweet feelings shifted so that the sweet nearly drowned out the bitter. All around him, the guests clapped and cheered once more, and as Legolas and Haldir began to make their exit, he suddenly felt Elrond’s arm around his waist. He turned to smile at the other elf, who chuckled and took the handkerchief Thranduil held and reached up to dab at the tears on the blond elf’s cheeks. And in that moment, that gentle gesture and the warm way Elrond smiled at him made Thranduil’s heart ache. He yearned for his own moment of joy, a wedding to his beloved to drown out the memories of the one he had spent so much time wishing had never happened…

     “Are you alright?” Elrond asked softly, leaning closer so only Thranduil could hear.

     Yes, and no, Thranduil realized. Yes, of course, he was overjoyed at the way things were going now. Ecstatic at his son’s happiness, thrilled that so far the day was proving to be lovely, content in the knowledge that Legolas would have Haldir at his side to help him and care for him. No, of course he was sad, because a stage of his life was over. No longer was he the most important person in his son’s life (that title went to Haldir now, and even Thranduil felt that it should). He would be leaving Mirkwood soon and would never be coming back. Watching the joy of this day, as selfish as it might seem, had underscored the sorrow of his own. He had realized that yes, he wanted to marry Elrond, but also felt that it would be impossible somehow (though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made him feel that way). But instead of trying to explain all of that now, when everyone’s attention should be on the newly-weds and not on the weepy Elvenking, he simply smiled a little and nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured Elrond. “You’re a father with a married child, you understand.”

     Elrond nodded gravely. “I do,” he said. Keeping his arm around Thranduil’s waist, he began steering the other elf back towards the indoors, where a great celebration was about to get underway. “Come. There’s a feast about to start and I’m famished.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     As the festivities went on (they would last long into the night for sure), Elrond constantly found his thoughts turning not to the wedding that had just taken place, but to one he longed for but would almost certainly never have – his own with his beloved Thranduil. Elrond had to admit that he wasn’t much of a stickler for Elvish tradition. Not any more, at any rate. But the fear of somehow doing something wrong – of hurting himself or Thranduil, of trying to do something that just couldn’t be done – had been gnawing at him for so long now.

     And yet, as he turned to watch Haldir and Legolas thoroughly doting on one another at their table at the head of the hall…well, he couldn’t help but feel those fears start to melt away. He wasn’t considering something Arda-shattering when he thought about marrying Thranduil. He was just thinking of having the kind of love and closeness that he had always felt lacking in his marriage with Celebrian. Even as he thought it, though, a twinge of guilt shot through him, and he looked down into his wine glass.

     “Ada, you two should dance.”

     His son’s voice shook him out of his thoughts and he blinked over at Elladan and Elrohir, currently crouching down beside his seat and grinning as though they had just devised the best plan ever. Elrond raised an eyebrow at them. “Is that so?” he asked. “Aren’t you afraid we might embarrass the happy couple?”

     “Grand-nana and Grand-ada are going to,” Elrohir said. He nodded to the dance floor, where Celeborn and Galadriel were currently waiting for the music to begin. As the music began, the pair bowed to each other and then settled into a slow and stately dance. Elrond tilted his head a little as he watched, then glanced over at Thranduil, who was sipping his wine and keeping a carefully-composed look of contentment on his face. When he felt Elrond’s gaze on him, though, he glanced over at the other elf and smirked just the tiniest bit. While Celeborn and Galadriel were both wonderful people and talented in their own ways, they were clearly not natural dancers.

     Well that settled it then.

     The dance ended and the crowd showered Celeborn and Galadriel in polite applause. As the couple nodded and waved to the guests, Elrond stood, cleared his throat, and offered Thranduil his hand. “Care for a dance?”

     “I thought you would never ask.” Thranduil beamed and set his wine glass down, took Elrond’s hand, and rose to his feet, which earned a hushed murmur of excitement from the people seated closest to them. Legolas and Haldir both looked up and smiled encouragingly at Thranduil. Legolas even waved to his father to urge him on. Thranduil just laughed and shook his head, and as they made their way to the dance floor, he dropped Elrond’s hand and went to speak to the musicians. When he returned, Elrond raised an eyebrow at him, but Thranduil offered no explanation. He just smiled serenely and took his place at Elrond’s side.

     The music began, and for a moment Elrond simply enjoyed the tune. But something about it bothered him, poking into his consciousness and demanding his attention, as though he had forgotten something important…and then it hit him. He and Thranduil had danced to this tune long ago, in Lindon, at the midwinter feast. The very occasion that had provided so many of the other firsts in their relationship. Elrond turned to Thranduil, eyes wide in surprise, and was treated to a sly grin. Thranduil had chosen the tune on purpose.

     They bowed to each other just as Celeborn and Galadriel had, joined hands once more, and danced as they hadn’t danced since their days together in Lindon.

     Elrond would later learn that the crowd had been utterly enraptured by their performance, that Legolas himself would exclaim that he never knew his father could dance so well, that the end of their dance would be greeted with enthusiasm to rival that of Legolas and Haldir’s first kiss during their wedding. But during the dance, and in the moments after, he had no energy or attention for the crowd around them. He had no interest in paying attention to anyone or anything else. He had eyes only for Thranduil, thoughts only of Thranduil, and nothing in all of Arda or beyond could have distracted him.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “That certainly was a glorious day,” Elrond said as he fluffed his pillow before bed. “I hope Legolas and Haldir have many fond memories of it in the years to come.”

     “I’m sure they will,” Thranduil said. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his brush through his long, silky hair, and from the way he spoke it was evident that his thoughts were miles away. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Elrond settled onto the bed next to him until the dark-haired Elf reached out to poke his arm.

     “Hmm?” Thranduil said. He finally finished fussing with his hair and set the brush down on his nightstand, then carefully pulled his hair back over his should so it would hang straight and smooth down his back.

     Elrond grinned a little and leaned against him. “You seemed so lost in thought,” he said. “I was just wondering where my beloved had gone.”

     Thranduil blushed a little. “Not very far,” he said. “I just…was thinking about things, and…trying to come to a decision.”

     “A decision?” Elrond said. He sat up and frowned a little, concern etched in his features. “What kind of decision?”

     Thranduil opened and closed his mouth a few times, then huffed and pushed himself off the bed. He paced around in front of Elrond, wringing his hands as he did. “I just…I’m frightened, Elrond. So very frightened. There are things I want more than anything in all of Arda and beyond, that I yearn for more than anything else in all my long years, and yet…I am so afraid. Afraid that you don’t want them too, or that having them would only end in pain, or that I am being too selfish to even want these things.” He stopped his frantic pacing and instead turned wide, wild eyes on Elrond. “Is it selfish, Elrond? Is it too unforgiveably selfish of me to want happiness and joy and the comfort of being with you?”

     Elrond looked up at Thranduil’s confused and frightened face and for a long moment, he too was confused. Thranduil’s sudden outburst made little sense to him. It seemed that the Mirkwood elf had been bottling these thoughts up for a long time, and holding them in had gotten to be too much for him. But in his urgency to finally share his true feeling with Elrond, he hadn’t taken the time to make sense of them himself yet.

     And then, as he took the time to fully digest Thranduil’s words, something clicked for him and they made sense once more. He stood and took Thranduil’s hands in his own and smiled at the blond elf. The smile only seemed to confuse Thranduil more, so Elrond dropped one of his hands and reached up to stroke his cheek instead.

      “Are you saying you wish for us to…” he began.

     Thranduil drew in a sharp breath and held it as he studied Elrond’s face for any signs that his companion might disagree or be against the idea. “I…yes. I want to marry you. And I don’t care if it isn’t normal, if it goes against Elvish traditions, I just don’t care about those things anymore.” He rested his free hand on Elrond’s shoulder and squeezed Elrond’s hand with the other. “So…will you? Marry me?”

     Elrond gazed into Thranduil’s eyes in silence for several moments. His heart absolutely pounded against his ribs, and he found that catching his breath was almost impossible. This was it, the moment he had wanted for so long but had never thought could happen.

     And it seemed that all this time, Thranduil had thought the same thing.

     How ridiculous they had both been.

     “Of course I will,” he whispered. “Thranduil, of course I will.”


	45. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys, writing this chapter drove me nuts. I'm not in a very good writing situation now (no privacy, no time to myself, loud TV on constantly that makes it so I can't even hear myself thing...). But it was either try to power through that and get this chapter done now, or wait several more weeks until I finally get to move out and get my own place again. So in order to prevent another year-long break, I went with the "now" option. Hopefully this chapter doesn't suck too much as a result.

**Chapter 41**

 

     Summertime in Imladris was absolute perfection, even now when the place had long since passed its prime and Elrond’s ring Vilya was naught but a pretty bauble on his finger. This summer was particularly lovely. It seemed that the trees and flowers had mustered forth one final burst of life this year. Thranduil knew that there was probably no particular reason why this year was so lush and green, but he liked to think it was a sign. Perhaps Arda itself was giving its blessing to his union with Elrond, and this was a sign of that.

    He glanced up from his vanity at a soft knock on his door and called, “Enter.” He watched in the mirror as Haldir and Legolas stepped inside, closing the door behind themselves and scurrying over to join him. Haldir held an ornately-carved wooden box in his hands, which he set on the vanity before joining Legolas in smooshing Thranduil between them in a warm embrace.

     “What are you two doing up here?” Thranduil asked, wrapping an arm around each of them. “I thought you were going to watch for Aragorn and Arwen.”

     “We did,” Legolas said. “They arrived half an hour ago.”

     “…Ah,” Thranduil said. Well, that should be it then. He and Elrond had decided on a small wedding – just their respective relatives and a few other friends like Lindir and Galion – and as of the previous evening everyone except Aragorn and Arwen were present. A tired Gondor messenger had arrived after dinner to bring word that Aragorn and Arwen were near and would arrive in the late morning or early afternoon of the following day. And now, with Legolas and Haldir confirming that they had arrived, the messenger had been proven right. “Then I suppose everyone is just waiting on me and Elrond,” he added.

     Haldir and Legolas exchanged a nervous look over the top of Thranduil’s head, and he frowned at their reflections in his mirror. When they turned back to face the mirror and get a look at Thranduil’s face again, Legolas gave a nervous little laugh. “Well…not quite,” he said. “The servants are still setting up the chairs. Glorfindel went to the kitchens a few minutes ago to make sure that dinner is well under way. And Erestor is positively beside himself trying to decide where to put the banners so they won’t block anyone’s view.”

     Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his sons. “Legolas, there are barely twenty guests for this wedding, just how long does it take to set up twenty chairs? And how hard is it to make sure nobody’s view is blocked?” He couldn’t imagine it would be that difficult.

     “Well…” Legolas said.

    “A few more than twenty people showed up,” Haldir added.

    “But look, Ada, we brought you a present!” Legolas said. His obvious attempt at redirecting the conversation earned him a stern look from Thranduil, but before the former King could protest, his son pressed the wooden box into his hands. “Open it!”

     Thranduil turned the box until he found the ornate gold latch keeping it shut, raised the latch, and opened the lid. He blinked down at the box’s contents, then grinned and laughed as he carefully lifted his gift out. A gorgeous gold circlet made to look like the twisting vines of climbing roses in full bloom, decorated with diamonds and pearls. “It matches my robes!” And indeed, Thranduil wore robes of white, decorated on the collar and train with roses worked in gold thread, gold beads, pearls, and diamonds.

     “Of course it does,” Legolas said. “You gave Galion the order for your robes, after all, so it was just a matter of asking him for the motif and colors you chose. Here, put it on!”

     Thranduil did as his son asked and gently settled the golden circlet onto his head, being careful to make sure the delicate teardrop-shaped diamond dangling at the circlet’s front was perfectly centered. “It’s gorgeous,” he said, and beamed up at both of the younger Elves. “Thank you both so much. I’ll always treasure it.”

     Haldir and Legolas kissed his cheeks, then headed for the door to leave Thranduil alone. “Just come down when you’re ready,” Legolas said.

     “Soon,” Haldir added. “I think the crowd might get impatient if they have to wait too long.”

     “Crowd?” Thranduil asked. “What do you mean, ‘crowd’? There isn’t supposed to be a crowd! Legolas! Haldir!” But his words fell on deaf ears, and then were blocked by his room’s door as both younger elves beat a hasty retreat.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “We agreed on a small gathering,” Elrond said. “You, Glorfindel, Erestor, perhaps a few others from here, Galion, Celeborn, Galadriel, our children, their spouses. Not…where _did_ they all come from, anyway?”

     Lindir stood stiffly beside Elrond, surveying the scene before them. They were both hidden behind the copious flowering bushes near the beginning of the path leading into the large covered area, high above the valley, where Elrond usually held White Council meetings. Of course the area hadn’t been used for that purpose in years, and now it was absolutely drowning in heavy flower garlands created just for the wedding. Someone had even twisted flowering vines around the chains holding the lanterns that hung from the ceiling, and plenty of flowers and potted plants had been set up on the raised platform where Elrond and Thranduil were to exchange their vows. All of this was just as Elrond and Thranduil had planned it, if perhaps a touch more elaborate than either of them had had in mind.

     What _wasn’t_ just as they expected was the crowd. The former Council area was packed to bursting with chairs, which in turn were currently being filled by guests that Elrond had certainly not expected. He saw his sons Elladan and Elrohir with Arwen and Aragorn in the front row on one side. Celeborn and Galadriel worked their way through the crowd to sit beside their grandchildren. Glorfindel and Erestor sat ram-rod straight behind them, surrounded by a few more elves of Imladris. Legolas and Haldir scurried past were Elrond and Lindir were hiding and took up their own seats in the front row on the opposite side of the aisle from Elrond’s family. Several other Mirkwood Elves were seated nearby. And all around them, mingling with each other as they hunted for the perfect seat, were more elves. Elves of Imladris, who had been planning to sail but had apparently decided to stay for the wedding. Elves of Mirkwood that Elrond didn’t know, who had apparently tagged along just for the heck of it (he wondered if even Thranduil would know who they were). Elves of Lothlorien, who, like their Lord and Lady, were on their way to the Grey Havens and had decided to stop to see the wedding before continuing on. But Elrond was utterly baffled, because, as far as he was aware, most of these people shouldn’t even know a wedding was happening!

     Lindir shrugged. “Word gets around,” he said. When Elrond turned to fix him with a somewhat accusatory look, Lindir stoically stared ahead at the crowd that was now rapidly arranging itself in the seats. It seemed that everyone had taken the appearance of Legolas and Haldir as a sign that things were going to get underway very soon. “Are you truly displeased?”

     “I…suppose not,” Elrond said. His wedding to Celebrian had been a larger affair than this, so despite the fact that this wedding had turned out larger than he planned, it still seemed small and intimate to him. He just wasn’t sure how Thranduil would take it. “But if Thranduil is angry, I’m telling him to take it up with you.”

     Lindir just smirked a little. Any answer he might have had was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Galion at his side.

     “Thranduil is ready,” Galion said. “It’s time.”

     Elrond just nodded, and Lindir and Galion left to finish the few remaining tasks they had to complete before the wedding could get underway. Elrond himself reached up to adjust his brooch and the collar of his silvery robes, then took a few deep breaths while he waited. This would work out. This would be okay. None of it mattered. Only one thing mattered today…and that was going to be perfect.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     The guests were comfortable in their seats, Gandalf was waiting patiently at the front of the crowd, and it seemed that the world itself was holding its breath as the illustrious moment approached. And yet, Elrond couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous with each moment that passed with no sign of Thranduil. Had he reconsidered and decided not to go through with this? The last time they had spoken, Thranduil _had_ seemed nervous. Elrond had thought it was just normal nerves, but now, he wasn’t so sure. He tried not to fidget as he waited for Thranduil, though he didn’t really succeed and caught himself absent-mindedly picking at the silver embroidery decorating the edges of his robe with star-like patterns. Nothing could begin without him. …Elrond felt that his very life had yet to begin, and wouldn’t until Thranduil finally showed up.

     He turned away from the sight of the crowd before him, pondering the possibility of going to look for Thranduil, and stopped dead in his tracks. Elrond gasped, eyes widening at the sight before him, hands slowly rising to cover his wide-open mouth.

     There was Thranduil, emerging from the shadows of the trees around them like a ray of sunlight filtering through a summer forest. Elrond had never seen him look so perfect, or glow so brightly, and as Thranduil stopped before him he reached out to take the golden-haired Elf’s hands in his own. Thranduil squeezed his hands, his own cheeks flushing pink as he gave Elrond a shy smile.

     “What has you so shy now?” Elrond asked. He chuckled a little and rubbed his thumb over the back of Thranduil’s soft hand.

     “You,” Thranduil whispered back. “You sparkle like the stars in the sky and I cannot believe this is real and finally happening.”

     “Come then,” Elrond said. He dropped one of Thranduil’s hands and gently moved the other to the crook of his elbow, and they both turned to face Gandalf and the crowd waiting for them.

     If there was music that day, neither of them remembered it. They would never remember where anyone else sat, or what color the flowers in the decorative garlands were, or even if there were clouds in the sky. They would barely remember the words they spoke, though the words weren’t important – the meaning of them had long been etched on the Elves’ hearts, and they only needed to speak them as a formality. Elrond would remember Thranduil, radiant in the sunlight, bowing his head and laughing as Elrond slipped a golden ring onto his finger. Thranduil would remember Elrond, standing before him like the brightest star in the sky, the serious expression he usually wore these days gone and replaced with one of pure joy and fulfillment.

      They spoke their words and exchanged their rings, and then Thranduil simply couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his hands away from Elrond, who looked terribly confused for a moment, and then flung himself into the dark-haired Elf’s arms. They clung to each other, both crying and nuzzling the other and murmuring soft words of love and affection. As they did, for the first time in both of their long lives, they felt…whole. Complete. As though there had been holes in their very souls that they hadn’t known were there, but they has still somehow always known that something was missing. And now, finally, the missing pieces were there, and would never be missing again.

     No two Elves had ever glowed so brightly as those two did in that moment.


	46. Epilogue -- Valinor, decades later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE IT IS, FOLKS. The moment we have all be dreading/waiting for...the end. The end has finally happened. I just want to thank everyone who put up with me through this, everyone who was patient during my long (and unexpected) hiatus, everyone who ever left a comment or kudos or bookmarked this...thank you all. Hope to see you again in another fic soon ;)

**Epilogue – Valinor, decades later**

 

     The last person Dulinnel had expected to see in her garden on this bright and sunny day was her former husband, and yet, there he stood, looking far more excited than she could ever remember seeing him. “What has you smiling so brightly today?” she asked him, and found herself smiling as well. Thranduil’s enthusiasm and happiness could be infectious at times like this. She wondered what it would have been like to be married to this version of him, rather than the depressed and sorrow-filled elf she had known in Arda.

     “Rumors abound of another ship arriving soon,” he said. “Cirdan is skeptical, as the last of his ships arrived shortly after the one that bore me, and yet, the rumors persist, and just minutes ago Elrond swore he saw a strange glint on the water to the east of here.”

     She shook her head a little and went back to tending her roses, a hobby she had taken up shortly after arriving in Valinor. “And why would another ship interest me? Or you, for that matter?”

     “Because our son once promised that he would sail for Valinor someday, and he has yet to keep that promise. I believe this new ship carries him, and perhaps others as well.” Thranduil paused and frowned at her a little. “Have you no desire to meet your son?”

     Dulinnel considered. For most of her life in Valinor, she had been quite content knowing nothing of him, not even his name. And then Thranduil had arrived, and they had spent many days together reconciling and catching each other up on centuries of news. Thranduil had told her all about Legolas and his life, including his marriage. But did she really want to meet him? What if he didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like him? She had been careful not to build up ideas about him in her mind, because she didn’t want her dreams to surpass or outshine the reality…and yet, she was certain reality could still find a way to disappoint her. But at the same time, wouldn’t it be cruel for her to refuse to meet him, if indeed Legolas was among those in the rumored ship?

      She set her garden sheers down and wiped her hands on her apron, which she removed and also set aside before nodding to Thranduil. “Let us go meet this ship, then, if it even exists.”

     They arrived at the landing area mere minutes later, to find Elrond and Celebrian already waiting there, along with a small crowd of curious onlookers who had come to see if the rumors were true. Thranduil glanced at Elrond’s former wife, noting that she looked both hopeful and sorrowful all at once. One of the first things Elrond had done after arriving in Valinor was seek her out and let her know about Arwen’s choice. Celebrian had taken the news hard, but in the years since Elrond and Thranduil came to Valinor, it seemed that she had accepted the fate of never seeing her daughter again. But now, all of her old hopes had been brought back by the rumors of a ship, and the knowledge that Arwen wouldn’t be on the ship no matter what was painful for her. And yet, that pain was clearly tempered with the hope that her sons were coming, and that at least two of her three children would be with her forever now.

     A sharp-eyed former marchwarden of Lothlorien spotted the ship first, flinging out his arm to point at it as he cried out in surprise and joy that the rumor had been true. Other Elves craned their necks and stood on their toes to see. Thranduil just reached out to grip Elrond’s hand as he watched, eyes first searching the water for the ship and then finally fixing on it as he caught sight of it. It was a lovely white ship, perhaps not quite as large or refined as any Cirdan had made, but still elegant and clearly well-made enough to safely carry its passengers out of Arda. As the ship drew nearer, a pair of Elves with dark hair appeared at the bow, pointing and shouting when they sighted land and the crowd that had come to greet them.

     “Can you tell who they are?” Thranduil murmured to Elrond.

     “They might be the twins,” Elrond murmured back, his hand gripping Thranduil’s hard enough to hurt, “but from here it’s hard to tell.”

     Within minutes, the ship sailed into the docking area, and for the longest time the elves gathered on the shore couldn’t see or hear anything that was going on. And then, suddenly, the dark-haired elves from the bow of the ship appeared, tearing up the beach and absolutely flinging themselves at Elrond and Celebrian. Indeed, they were Elladan and Elrohir, and they were overjoyed to see their parents. Thranduil stood back to watch the happy reunion, smiling a little as he did, though his own heart ached. He had hoped his son would be among those on the ship…

     He turned his attention back to the dock and watched the elves milling about there, helping to unload supplies and their fellow passengers. Thranduil frowned a little as he noticed a short being with frizzy white hair and stiff movements leave the ship, aided by many in the crowd…and then his heart nearly leapt from his chest, for right behind the stocky being were two very familiar blond elves. Legolas and Haldir. Without even being fully conscious of it, he started heading down the beach, and within moments he was running. The elves on the dock fortunately had the sense to scramble out of his way, and he swept his son up in his arms before the younger elf even noticed he was there.

     “Ada!” Legolas exclaimed. It was the sweetest word Thranduil had ever heard.

     “Legolas…” he whispered. The two elves clung to each other tightly, and Thranduil buried his nose in his son’s hair. “I have missed you so much, and I’m so glad you’re finally here…”

     “I told you I would be,” Legolas said. “And you know I keep my promises.”

     When Thranduil was finally willing to let go of Legolas, he embraced Haldir as well, then guided the two young elves back up the beach. Legolas called out to one of elves who had sailed with them to take care of Gimli (“You didn’t think I was going to leave my friend behind, did you, Ada?” he asked when Thranduil gave him a shocked and almost appalled look), but otherwise their journey towards the waiting crowd was uninterrupted. Thranduil stopped just shy of the crowd and motioned for Dulinnel to join them. She stepped forward hesitantly, eyeing Legolas and Haldir warily, but joined them nonetheless.

     “Legolas,” Thranduil said, “I think it’s time for you to meet your mother. Dulinnel, this is our son Legolas, and his husband Haldir.”

     Dulinnel took a few more steps until she was right in front of Legolas, starting up into his face with wonder. Legolas tilted his head a little and gave her a shy grin in return. “You are even more handsome than I had imagined,” she said. “You take after Thranduil, I see.”

     “Really? He once said I took after you,” Legolas replied. Dulinnel blinked at him, then laughed and playfully swatted his arm. Thranduil just chuckled and shook his head.

     “Go on, then,” he said, “you two should go spend some time together. You have a lot to catch up on. We’ll see to it that your ship is unloaded and everyone is safe.” Legolas just nodded and held out his arm for his mother. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and turned to go even further up the beach, guiding Legolas across the unfamiliar territory and pointing out things of interest as she went. Thranduil watched them go, fighting down the twinge of sadness and guilt he felt at the sight, then turned to do as he had promised and keep an eye on the unloading of his son’s ship. But he didn’t get very far with that before Elrond appeared at his side.

     “So Legolas finally gets to meet his mother,” the dark-haired elf said. “Do you think it will go well?”

     Thranduil nodded. “I hope so, at least. They deserve that much.” He smiled a bit and rested his hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “And you must be happy to have the twins back.”

     “Oh yes, very much so,” Elrond said. “As is Celebrian. We will both mourn Arwen’s absence for a long time to come, but…having the others here will help.”

     “Yes,” Thranduil agreed. “But you know, Elrond…I think it finally feels like home here.”

     “Agreed, Thranduil,” Elrond said. “It’s home now.”

     Elrond slipped his arm around Thranduil’s waist, and Thranduil rested his head on Elrond’s shoulder. As they watched the elves finish unloading the boat and watched the first stars of night begin to appear on the horizon, they felt content, and loved, and most of all, they felt whole.


End file.
